Winter is an especially cold time in northern England.

The memory has been burned deep in my mind. Though the time has the memories wrought with anger and betrayel, it is a virtual relief that it came to an end, in any form in did. I was not the husband I should have been. I married the bitch when I was nineteen years old and wasn't wise to the ways of the world. We swam in a pool of lies and half truths until the end. I chose to believe and I chose to be made a fool of, and then I chose to quit outright.

     It was a Thursday.

     In the early morning hours, quiet fell upon the moors and the mists felt thick as Pallidon moved through the path. There was a heaviness of the breath as it extinquished from the lungs. Stars were still shining brightly in the still, dark hours awaiting the coming of the morning sun.