🎷” The world won't save you but I will.”🎼

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Rain hailed down on your back incessantly, claiming each inch of your skin and sucking whatever warmth you had in you out. Your eyes, too, generously poured down thick, salty tears, joining the rain in a desperate dance that watered the grass atop his grave. It's been three weeks, and you still could not let go of your grief — your brother's death left you shattered beyond mending; your last remaining family member, was gone, just like that.

Suddenly, the rain ceased its senseless assault on you — or did it? It was just an umbrella, shielding you from the sky downpour. "You'll get sick," a smooth voice spoke, and looking up, you could see Sunday, his hand extended with an umbrella above your head, even if it meant he was now the one bearing the brunt of Mother Nature's grief.

You stood up, your feet leaving indents in the slippery mud beneath you. "Sunday... how did you know I was here?" you questioned curiously as if it weren't so painfully obvious.

"where else would you be?" he responded simply, his voice betraying a hint of strain and exasperation. "stop crying so much... god won't have mercy on you just because you wept over a grave. The world won't save you."