You stare out at the city below you, so full of vigor and vibrance. Despite your efforts to be bright and kind, you’ve always found yourself adrift from the crowd below, in a way that borders on the titular. Today is a rather nondescript evening, and like all the others before it, it echoes with the slow throbbing tick of your bloodpusher, pumping yet more vital fluid through the space between your sanguine tubes with every tick of the clock. Your mind goes to the moments you’ve played out a thousand times in fantasy, the lighthearted games you run where everyone’s a hero, and there is always, always hope for the future. However, even now, you cannot ignore that incessant, dull tick. It’s the sound that inevitability makes when tuning her pocket watch, waiting for the moment the final hand rests its way onto null.
You get the feeling it’s going to be a long night.