The breeze attacked her naked shoulders as the clouds covered the last ray of sun that could be seen in the night sky.
The road was empty. Paris was dead at that time. Every shop rolled down, every car seemed ironic in the lonely city, standing there to remind her she wasn't alone.
Was that good? Was that bad?
The pale autumn leaves scrached as she stepped on them, screaming in pain as she destroyed the layer of green and red that covered the street.
Then again, did she aid them?
More cries were heard as she destroyed them, stepping on them harder and fastening her pace, her mind racing away from this town.
And then she stopped. Cries were heard from behind. Step, scream, step, scream, step, scream--