It was snowing outside when Daniel woke up. It was another freezing morning, the start of a long, tiring day when only logical thinking could save him from a mental breakdown. He could hide in it, like a snail in its shell, if someone touched him. If there was one thing he was afraid of, it was talking about his feelings. Lately, though, he hadn't felt anything at all. He did not need to be protected or to protect anyone. Let alone feel strongly about someone. He'd rejected the whole world and closed himself off in his own. He hid behind confidence and rationality.

He was simply tired of life. The past hurt too much, the present was exhausting, and he had given up on the future when he kicked the bucket under him that morning. The rope tied to the wooden beam stretched, the room creaked, and the eye around his neck tightened.

It was a comforting feeling, like when his mother was still alive and he could sit in her lap and listen to songs. Now he hated songs. All his life he had just been sinking deep into himself, into the past, when he still knew who he was and what he wanted. And now he could fly away somewhere far away.

He woke up to a blinding light shining in his eyes. He opened his eyes uncertainly. He didn't believe in God or an afterlife, hoping that there would be nothing after death. So he was unpleasantly surprised to perceive something. Or was it that he hadn't died?

Ahead of him, he saw a long, shining stairway leading into the unknown. It was dark all around. Whatever that meant, he had no choice but to find out where he was and when he would finally disappear. With an effort, he picked himself up. His legs were shaking and his mouth was dry, but he didn't feel like anything serious had happened to his body, which was a strange and unnatural feeling when he broke his neck. He shuddered at the thought.

He grabbed the railing, whose color reminded him of golden rain, his favorite plant. He smiled, but it was more like a grin on his face. The first step, the second, and the third. What would he do now if he didn't kill himself? He would have eaten breakfast-black coffee and bread and butter. He figured he was hungry. He didn't even write a suicide note. Will anyone miss him? Has anyone found his corpse yet? No, it doesn't matter. He can't return it anyway.

Suddenly he felt like crying like a little kid. He was desperate and didn't know what to do like the morning he found his mother dead. He was about seven. Like any other night, she had sent him to bed. She didn't say anything, didn't show her sadness. And when he woke up in the morning, she was dead. She'd overdosed.

In a way, he knew it wasn't his fault. He couldn't save her. But sometimes when he thought about it, he wondered if he could have been a better kid. And sometimes he blamed her. Why did she leave him? She must have known how much it would hurt him! But didn't he do the same thing...?

Before he knew it, he could see the end of the staircase. Each step was more exhausting than the last. He'd quite like to see the secretary at his work one more time. He was beginning to regret that he hadn't tried to make friends with anyone. Why had he never gotten a pet in the first place?

"You're beginning to regret it, aren't you?" a young woman stood at the top of the stairs. Her voice was beautiful but distant.

Daniel took a closer look at her, "Mom?"

"Daniel, come downstairs, maybe you'll get a second chance," she whispered.

"What do you mean?" He quickened his pace. "I want to be with you."

"I'm sorry," her voice shook. "But you have to live your own life now."

Daniel paused. Isn't this her last wish? To live? She'd regretted it all along, wishing that one day he'd get over it and start living.

He didn't bother to say anything, just quietly turned and walked downstairs. It seemed to him as if the ties that bound him to despair and loneliness had broken. He had been given another chance.

And when Daniel woke up in his hospital bed, he thought for the first time that he was glad to be alive.