A Mark

A tear barely clinging to eyelashes, but yet breaks free with much effort and falls to hit the cold hard ground with a tiny splash that sounds more like a heart wrenching, desperate, agonized cry sent into the ether with the hopes of some response. All one hears are the haunting echoes of that cry and all that remains of the tear is a mark on the cheek; that too will be wiped off clean with the cold November sweat.