She was at the wall again, standing a few feet away with glassy eyes. Her grubby hands caressed the little white rock in the pocket of her oversized jacket. She never could focus when she came to the wall. There was no wind, but still it howled and blew her hair out of it's loose clasp. The screeching ghost tempest was muffled by the conscience of the dumbstruck girl. She seemed to be the only thing not made out of concrete, though she was as pale and still as marble. Without any knowledge of her actions, the girl stepped closer to the wall. Old combat boots crunched on wet asphalt, trailing the torn edges of a faded skirt. The fingers of her gloves had worn away providing protection no further then her knuckles. The stone was cold and smooth in her pocket, except for the edge where the other half had broken off. She absently mindedly drew her hand out of her pocket, away from the stone, and towards the wall. The ghost tempest had all but ceased, leaving only the slightest whistle to echo out of the gray surrounding her. Scuffed boots continued slowly towards the concrete barrier; gray, like everything else. Her arm was fully extended, and her fingers reached out to the bricks. The wind wasn't all she could hear. Her heart, beating, slowly, in time with the crunching of her boots. Her index finger hit the wall. Her eyes snapped into focus and she fell to her knees, weeping. She rested her forehand against the wall and let the tears fall into her lap, softly wetting her clasped hands. She let her full body lean on the wall and pressed her tear-streaked cheek to the concrete. She was small, surrounding by empty gray regret and barely hanging on. Through the bricks, she could feel the sun. Warmth barely penetrated the sandstone, but it did, and she remembered. She had been in the warmth, in the sun, in the love. Her trembling fingers reached up and stroked the wall. The blisters opened up and blood ran down her palms and into the gutter. She ran one dying hand through her knotted, greasy, hair and heaved a shuddering sigh that could break the hardest of hearts. Her hand returned to the wall and continued its caress. A rain began to fall, mingling with the blood and running down the gutter. She turned her face to the sky and cried with the clouds. The wall was cold.