A firefly tumbled through the open window, blown by the hot August winds. Barry watched it with interest. He had always wanted to catch one and it had only appeared now, on tonight of all nights.

The sleeping pills and alcohol churned in his empty stomach. The seventeen-year old felt sick, but it was a woozy, drowsy sort of sickness that gave everything an under-water look. He focused on the tiny corona of light from the firefly.

“I bet you’re not tired with all that energy in you… Not like me… I’m so tired of not being good enough… Of everyone hating me… Of Molly hating me… Every…Everything is… so… wrong… why didn’t someone care?” he mumbled.

Barry’s eyelids fluttered and with his dying breath he watched the firefly head out the window. He smiled, a weak but genuine smile, something he hadn’t done in a long time. He was glad that he hadn’t caught the glowing insect before. He would have missed it now when he needed it most.

He would have missed his light and guide, into the dark beyond.