Eyes dry, soul brittle and broken. My slumber ends with an outward stretch as shivers tingle down my spine. The air is cold as I clasp my hands together to capture any warmth left in my body. The leaves crunch under me as I sit up against the willow tree. The white branches, full of ash and dust hug me as the wind blows. The dead branches shingle together like a broken instrument as the rags covering me blow away. Not a single form of life to be seen. What have I done...