The warm summer rain paints a pattern on the vespertine pavements of Rome. I'm in my shower while large drops of rain aggressively knock against the window, just to join with their siblings to form a rill.
I think of them. Each of them was so special. The delicate fingers pressing against the indestructible window pane which was supposed to keep evil out. The superior attitude suddenly giving way to despair. The widening eyes in the moment of cognition. I step out of the shower and let go of the memory. My mouth line is twisted into a bitter smile. My skin is dry.
16th place (out of 42) in the 20th Annual Interactive Fiction Competition.
[+] Users who have solved this game
[+] Users currently playing this game