The opium was thick in his blood. Until it thinned the drug would cocoon him against the cold, and everything else – the disappointment of the life he was living and the regrets of the life he’d left behind. Right now, in this moment, he was devoid of troubles, connected to the world by nothing more than a thread. He felt no emotion, just contentment, not in the form of happiness but contentment as the absence of pain, the absence of dissatisfaction – an exquisite emptiness of feeling. Opium had made him hollow, scooping out the bitterness and reproach. That he’d vowed revenge, promised justice and achieved nothing did not upset him. His failures had been banished by the drug, a temporary exile, held at bay, ready to return when the opium’s effects wore off.

The water lapping at his lips urged him to continue.

One step further.

Why settle for a simulation of emptiness dependent on narcotics when the real thing was so close? Another step and he would be at the bottom of the lake, a trail of bubbles from his lips to the emerald surface the only trace of his existence. The stones in his pockets joined the chorus of whispers, urging him to take the final step.

Leo did not heed their call, remaining motionless. No matter how many times he stood here, no matter how sure he was that today was the day he would cross over, he could not bring himself to cut the thread that joined him to the world. He could not take the final step.

The opium began to thin. His senses reconnected with reality, coming together like planets realigning. The water was cold. He was cold. He shivered, reaching into his pockets and taking out the smooth stones, allowing them to drop beside him, feeling the vibrations as they struck the bed of the lake. He turned away from the mountains, churning the water, and slowly returned to shore, wading back towards the city of Kabul.

Greater Province of Kabul

City of Kabul - Karta-i-Seh District

Darulaman Boulevard - Same Day