Ram remembered a young boy, though some would say a young man, that sat at the edge of the parking lot. His face was tear stained and red. Angry thin lines crisscrossed his cheeks where he’d used his fingernails to fling away the tears. Not enough to bleed but enough to last. To be seen.

Not that anyone would say anything, if the bruises had been indication. It wasn’t proper. It didn’t fit into the way the world was ‘supposed’ to be. So, silence had waited for the blood to turn yellow and fade. Worse, the boy had stayed silent too. Waiting to be rescued from the crush of propriety.

Till the day he couldn’t take it and tore through the quiet, then ran away from what he’d done. To the far side of the parking lot.

Through bloodstained eyes, the boy saw a man was coming over. There was anger in the man’s eyes and seeing that… it woke an anger in the boy as well. Enough anger to make a wish. The wish.

And as the Keeper promised to make it come true, the boy couldn’t take it back.