ending

He could barely breath upon reaching the final steps, up 40 levels of stairs in a midnight's time, the final step felt as illusionary as though he was about to fall.

But then the door which he had visualized it to be hermetic tight, now, ajar with the slightest tinge of golden sun piercing into the pitch black darkness, through him, through his past, through the one he had left, on all the wrongs he had done.

He hobbled forward, breaths as deep as his sunken heart, placed his hands on the knob, then the city was awakening in front, its cerulean blue well hidden behind the tan clouds, and he finally rested his weight upon the veranda. He had ventured far more further than 40 levels of height into someone, he had allowed himself to believe that love is much more than a midnight's dream, he had allow himself a love that is much more than a dream, and he knew they will all be gone upon acquainting the first rays of the sun, yet he finally had chosen a bigger part of him, a part, where he knows he'll find his catharsis.

Somewhere in the city, his father pushed open the rimy doors, after a midnight's storm the first fall of snow had met him, he had had a midnight dream to himself, that it could somehow had turned out a better way. Sometime in between the dream, he knew she had left the seat beside him, she had printed her steps on this snow-laden path he dithered to follow, then a rainstorm landed, abruptly washing these streets where they both had grown up together. And the first rays of the sun shone on a path that he had to go, home.