Once upon a time there was a very, very lonely man. Every day he would walk alone into the deep, dark forest and chop wood. Day in and day out. The only sounds that enveloped him was of the forest and the cut wood. Every day, he would sit alone in his wooden cottage, reading an old book. The only comfort he was brought was of the hollow words scribbled in the book’s pages. Every day, he would lay in his bed alone wondering if the next day would be the same as the last. The only thoughts he had was if life was worth living.
And every day.
He heard the sway of the noose.
Slowly, slowly drifting back and forth.
The only thing he could wonder.
Was if he had made.
The right choice.