With all the miracles of nature’s creations, there are bound to be some duds along the way.

Evron’s skin burned, partially because his eczema was flaring up and partially because he was scratching at it on purpose. He didn’t particularly like the consequences, but his mind was too bleak to not have something stimulating his nerves.

His hand runs through his hair, barely going through all the way because of the sheer amount of knots from not properly caring for it. Usually, he could go bald and wouldn’t even notice. Now, his hair covered his eyes like a mask.

It doesn’t matter so much. He’d clip it back and forget about it until he needed something to get angry at. On other days, if he couldn’t get angry at himself, he’d get angry at the world.

With unease fermenting in the pools of his body, all he could do was live. But with all this baggage and neglect, could this really be considering living?

Evron hopes not. But it doesn’t concern him any longer, because his desire for any form of life died with him long ago.

With one the final cheap bite of his last granola bar, Evron slouches over as if built into his system.

It is only when he saw the view from halfway down did he close his eyes and sigh with relief.