He stares out into the northern sky
It is opaque with cloud. There is moisture in the slight breeze.
It is almost midsummer.
On this quiet night with only his thoughts and a bottle of red wine for company, he has unexpectedly found peace. The storm that raged inside him has abated. His passion is spent, his longing subsided, his sense of loss has diminished. A sadness lingers – it has left its mark around his eyes – but it is no more than a last sigh for beauty unattainable.
If this were a movie he would shrug, shake his head almost imperceptibly and smile a little ruefully to himself.
If he smoked he would take one long, last, tip-glowing drag then drop the ruined cigarette to the floor, crushing it beneath his boot.
If there was justice there would be someone to take his hand in theirs.
If he were a better man he would call home.
The spell is broken. He has at last let go. It is over.
Somewhere beyond the rain there are countless stars in a velvet sky.
They are shining like diamonds.