It was raining cats and dogs in the City of Scars. It was a sad sad day, the day before the wounds would heal, before there was absolute sadness and nothing left from the storm but a whirlwind of emotions. It was raining cats and dogs, and they were dancing in the roof, casting shadows of now and forever. Here comes, in the Scar City of fighters, of seekers, and angels looking over their companions on Earth, another lost soul shaking in the cold. A soul who doesn’t remember what it’s been fighting for. A soul who seeks for a face that couldn’t be remembered. A soul that is certainly not one of the angels, she knocked hesitantly, as she shivered in the cold she knocked as hard as the rain clattered on the roof, as fast as shadows appear and disappear and the dance begin and end, and amidst the whirlwind and the storm she knocked, in the cold and collapsed. In the arms of another lost soul.
Tomorrow, the wounds would heal. And there will be nothing left from the storm but a whirlwind of emotions. In the City of Scars, it does rain. And one lost soul has found a home. But not without a scar. In this City, no one leaves without a scar. We only learn to survive the cold.