A breeze drifted by aimlessly, startling me out of my reverie. I realized in the silence, that I’d been dreaming again. The child never existed! I furiously berated myself for dreaming. I didn’t have time for mistakes in my line of work, but I found myself dwelling on the one mistake, I couldn’t fix. I couldn’t forget.

Two years ago, almost exactly. I had tried to stop the pregnancy to avert the disaster before anyone could be harmed. The sad truth was, I had succeeded.

The only one I couldn’t stop from hurting was me. Everyday I’d been haunted by the image, no the vision of who those luminescent, ethereal brown eyes could have been. Who they were already.

And I hated myself. That was it. Everyday I hit the wall. The Dead Ends.