It was two in the morning and the ones perky streets of Palo
Alto were disserted. The only sound in the empty city was
the sound of faint footsteps. Wandering past all the empty
shops, she looked like a ghost; her tears ping silently on
the hard asphalt and her stained white dress moving with the
wind

Slowly, the woman fell forward, her dark hair blowed back
and reveled a soft, white face. a young face.

Lifeless, she laid there, in the middle of the filthy
street. A single, last tear fell from her green eyes on to
her pale cheek, leaving a salty trail behind it.