In a way he had to stop. No one really understood why, or even how. The chase was not the same, the scent was not the same. Everything had to do with something different. Out of control. Irregular. It had to do with perspective. In a twisted way he knew about perspective. He had none. In that specific day it was raining heavily. Heavenly rain drops colliding with the sidewalks, the noise that asks for eternal repetition. The sky was darker than usual. Winter schedule. Short days made long. Rain drops. Looking outside the window used to bring some feeling of confort. Repent. While hell breaks loose, the secured and assured soul is safe behind the double glass window. Sins remained outside. But not anymore. The prediction of the already proclamed was once again chewing on the past. Whatever it was. It was arriving. The feeling was there and the presence was screaming from not that far. He prefered to see it as a simple “chill going up the spine” but it was more than that. It was something odd, like a puzzle piece out of place.