He staggered and stumbled through the ice-crusted snow, hour upon hour, day into night and back again. Not that he noticed. An angry wind rasped against his cheeks, and sleet pelted the rest of him. Not that he cared. He just kept pushing onward—not towards, but away. Away and away and away, knowing there were no answers or comfort to be found anywhere. The winter storm raged about him, but it was as nothing to the maelstrom he felt within.
Let me die, he prayed. Let me die.
In time, he found himself on the edge of a cliff, overlooking a great crevasse. He wept, and his tears froze in their tracks. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he said a final goodbye and then closed his eyes and leaned out into space.
He was alarmed at how much time he had to think.
Until he stopped thinking.