He sighed, and entwined the thin sheets in his fingers, letting the rough matted fabric sink into his skin. The night was still, as had been the day as the stale sun rose above the cracking soil.
  Slowly he sunk, deep into his own body. A sensational heat engulfed him, running through his sweat-frayed hair. He breathed slowly, actually paying attention to the feeling of his weak lungs expanding and swaying inside his chest…….He sighed.
  


Far, far away…..the door opened. He heard the scattered steps of the man’s children’s bare feet as they ran into his arms. They kissed him lightly; welcoming him home. They soon faded away to the lock of the door behind him, their cries of cheer turning to dust in the sighs of their fading memory.

He exhaled.

Again, the door opened. A small boy, on the end of his toddler days, walked slowly amongst the old apartment’s creaking floorboards. She lay across the way from him amongst the old battered couch, the bottle clutched weakly in her hanging hand. “….Mama…?” he asked quietly, afraid to wake her from her slumber. “…..Billy’s here, Mama…..” He tugged gently on her hair that had fallen over her like silenced drapes atop her blank, lifeless face. “……he w-wants to talk to you....” He bit his lip and hung his head after a silent response, her pale eyes gazing back sadly toward her son.
  The door opened behind him, and a distraught gasp escaped the man’s lips as horror filled his eyes. The bottle fell from her weak grasp, falling to the floor as time seemed to freeze before them all. The man pulled the boy away from his mother, who had gone away, and vanished within the world between life and death. “…..Mama….”

He inhaled.

The man swayed gently to the drifting melody that had arisen from his fingers, his enchanting gaze surfing upon the array of ivory keys. A smile twitched to life upon his dry lips as he released a ring of smoky vapors from the dying cigarette that hung limply from his drying tongue. A gentle breeze danced through the window, left ajar by the content musician as slender fingers skipped from note to note upon his beloved instrument; though it was then that he saw her, and noticed her beautiful presence in the hallway, leaning gracefully upon the crooked doorway. He finished his piece softly; a single note lingering beautifully in the rich air. She smiled gently, her golden hair falling in the passing breeze, “……don’t stop….” She whispered on the wind.



He released his tense grip on his resting place, looking out onto the bleached moonlit floor as once again, the door opened. He leaned again in the gloomy memory of the doorway, sighing at the sight of him and staring out into the open summer’s night, “….you alright?” his visitor whispered into the dark, his dark mangled hair draped about his piercing eyes.

He exhaled.

Tears had welled pitifully in his eyes; they spilled down onto his limp jacket as he heard his voice crack the darkness that had conceived him. “…..Frank?” he asked again gently, “…….are you alright?”
  Frank turned toward him, back to the doorway that had haunted him so, “……I don’t remember anymore….” he cried, his weak lungs giving way into hyperventilation. He collapsed down into the twisted ragged sheets, his visitor rushing to his side. He cried quietly, his heart sinking away into the emptiness of his churning stomach.
  “…..Gerard….” he cried into his chest, “…..d-don’t let any of this ever happen t-to me…..”
  Gerard stroked Frank’s matted hair as he clung helplessly to him, “….d-don’t let the music ever d-die……” he cried.
  He kissed his tears away gently as the stale sun arose to a new day, and locked the door behind them.