Zique walked through his front door, hands stuffed in his pockets. His way back home seemed much longer than his way out, but perhaps it was because he was deep in thought; buried in a thick muddle of anxiety.

He was a wreck and that was something he shouldn’t be. For years he had anticipated his death, the only thing he wanted before dying was a child and it was suppose to be the same now.

However, it wasn’t. He didn’t want to die, his thoughts were completely different from back then because