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The rims of the gleaming coffin were as black as the inside of his eyes. The droplets of rain that raced each other down the sides shaded the perfect illusion, like the fading walls of his soul. Like miniature cracks on an otherwise perfect surface. And he stood there, alone. With the ghosts that haunted him and the ghost that she left behind. The ghost she had chosen to become. But even the thought of her divine presence around him bore no comfort at all. It only punctured the holes in him a little deeper every time he thought about it. For the body that lay there cold and lifeless was as much a symbol of all his failures and misguidances as it was a symbol of the infinite love that once glowed in them like a sorcerer’s wand in fierce combat.