No where left to run. No home. No family. No kid. No friends. You are alone. You have no money, and your clothes are rags sown together by any thing you could find. You sleep on the corner of the street. You see no one. You can't see anyone. You are alone. No one is there to comfort you. You have no chance of finding some one. The city was quarantined. Some disease has spread into the town. You know this when you found some guards at the city limit. The hospitals are closed, people in their houses. You are alone. No one cares anymore. You know your end is near. Your heart races half the time and is slow the rest of the time. Your nose bleeds for no reason. Your vision is blurry. It feels like your joints are cement. You know you can't do this much longer. You are dyeing and you have no chance of surviving. You let out a few coughs as you lower yourself to the ground. You slowly close your eyes, as a tear rolls down your check. Then, it falls onto the ground. Your heartbeat slows. Slows even more. Then, your heart stops. Your body slowly collapses. Your head hits the pavement. No one will care. No one will come to your grave to honor you. You are alone. You are alone. . .