Call out! He says
I say, What do I say?
The man disappears.
I see echos of footprints, I hear the echo of words.
There's nothing left. I sit down on dirt, a tear falling.
Sighing, I turn back. A man runs through the halls.
'We, a great wind, sweeping over us all.' He cries.
I nodded, and join the chant. Soon all of London is screaming the pass of words.
I smile, and turn off into the mist. *My job here is done.