London 1867. Rain, gray sky. You stroll leisurely along the bridge. Seagulls swirl around you, people with umbrellas bustle about, running through the puddles.

You are nestled against the railing of the bridge, gazing into the dark water and thinking about your life. Your life is empty, and so is your heart...and mind...and body. You wanted to take a dip in that dark water and fall asleep in it forever...but there are too many people around. You sigh softly. You feel so...heavy on yourself...on your heart...at any second you are ready to burst into tears, like a child.... And suddenly, your umbrella flies out of your hands. That's the end of you.

Crystal tears started to form in your eyes. You didn't even have the strength to catch your umbrella, but...suddenly, someone's hand reached out to you...your umbrella. It was a man you didn't recognize...

"Hey...are you okay? Is this your umbrella?"

Asked the man in a low voice, adjusting his hat.