Vien lounged atop thick green grass. Next to him was a pile of rocks he had collected on the way over. Some were like fists, perfect for destroying a window. Others were long and round and flat. The kind that are perfect for skipping. Still others were like minature dioramas or cave paintings, their natural colors giving them odd angular pictures.

Picking one up at random, Vien tossed it into the air and caught it on the back of his hand. There, he amused himself by making the rock move using only the muscles in his hand. The rock was shaped like a craggy heart, complete with a gold vein running through it.

A cloud came to rest between Vien and the sun.

Without the light, the heart looked plain and ugly, the gold vein became a line of yellow dirt.

Vien stared at the contours and edges the he had just been admiring. No beauty remained. There was no beauty in the world.

Tilting his hand, he let the rock slide more than roll until it fell off the edge of his palm.

He watched as it bounced out of sight.