I woke up to the sound of sirens. This sound was as common as the chirp of birds. At this point I was apathetic to it, like the world was apathetic to me. Sliding out of bed I picked up and threw on my trousers that had been sprawled across the floor. Coming out of the room, I ambled to the staircase. Strewn across the wall of the staircase were pictures of a man and women. They seemed to be in love. The man was not me.

Walking through the all-encompassing cold I came across my favourite fish and chip shop. Something was wrong. The shop was by no means popular, and business was most definitely not booming; but usually there would be at least a couple of people in the shop at that time of day. Walking through the door I was met with the odour of faeces. Maybe the food inspector had shut the shop down. Probably not. Peering onto the kitchen from my position in front of the counter I could see brown smears marring the kitchen floor. At least I knew where the small was coming from. I thought of calling the police but then thought better of it. What good would that do me? The police would probably end up using me as a scapegoat for some reason. It was not my problem, but I called the police regardless. It was not due to me being a good man. No, it was due to the fact that if I had indeed walked into something nefarious and it was known that I did not report it; I would end up with trouble I did not desire.

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I heard something behind me. Turning around I was met with the face of an average man, with average height and an average build. He pulled a gun on me. This was it. The end of my life. The end of my life it was.

Gaining conscious and staring into black depth was not something I was expecting to do again, but I was. Opening my eyes, I could see several figures. As my vision gained clarity, I could see the outlines of their faces transition from sorrow to happiness.

How cliché.