He lay in the rain-soaked street reflecting how much time he had left: what would he have changed, what could he have changed. His daughters would be wondering what had happened; why didn't he tell them, or anybody? Christine, an attractive and sexually uninhibited co-worker. It was her idea, her suggestion that changed his life forever. John Boston was a good guy. Life was good. He pretty much had it all, but he wanted more. He wanted her. The sheer exhilaration of being with her, and the pain and inconsolable grief of losing her: was that what brought him here, to this point? Literally a point of no return for him, or so he thought. Was death the cost of wanting a life with her? Something was protecting him, allowing him another chance on life, but at a price. Would he take it, and at what cost? He watched as the rain in the gutter turned red and all feelings in his body ceased to hurt him. He whispered her name and waited.