I'm departing from the three second horror theme going on, sorry guys.
He closed his eyes as he stood in front of the old bar. Even though it had been closed for months now, he could still almost see himself through the smoke stained glass. He was younger then, when he met her. The alcohol didn't dull his memories of that night; the soft rustle of leather as he turned to look as the door swung open, the smell of the spring air vivid against the smell of cheap beer and cigarettes. Then she walked in. Terminally pretty, that was his first thought.
There was a tap on his shoulder. The demolition crew was ready. He opened his eyes as he crushed his smoke under his heel, turning to leave without a word. He had always been told that we live forever through memory. But memories are dead things.
I am free, no matter what rules surround me. If I find them tolerable, I tolerate them; if I find them too obnoxious, I break them. I am free because I know that I alone am morally responsible for everything I do - Robert A Heinlein
Courage ~ Discipline ~ Fidelity ~ Honor ~ Hospitality ~ Industriousness ~ Perseverance ~ Self Reliance ~