You could go back and stand at the window in the pouring rain.
Staring, forever staring, at the happy family within. You're soaked and then one of the children catches your eye. You reach out to the window - perhaps this is a memory, and the child is you reflected against the window pain. But no, the rain is all to real, as is the cold steel of the handcuffs as you are led away, the screaming of a terrified family still ringing in your ears.
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Mon 25 Jun 2012, 12:34, Reply)