Sunset lingers for a few minutes. Or perhaps a few hours. It’s hard to tell for her in her current state.
 
But in time she leaves, but not before holding the book she had been preparing for as long as she could remember, that she was going to share with him on his birthday.
 
She stares at it, for what seems like an eternity, before dropping it into a slowly building puddle. Sunset does not look back as she bolts down the street, eyes blinding in the rain.
 

 
Yes. It could only be the rain.