He stood there, looking at the mirror, wondering about what could have been.
The cool black steel pressed against his warm skin.
Sweat dripped off his face as he thought about what he should do.
His life seemed as hopeless as it could possibly get, without only one way out.
He began to wonder how he could continue to live after what had happened at that terrible place.
The end has never seemed so kind.
His shirt was stained with sweat and tears of what he was about to do.
He wished that there was something left for him to hold on to.
His pain growled at him like a dying dog, wishing to be let loose.
How many more months could he move his mangled memories away.
Then he remembered his life, all the laughs he shared, all the tears he had cried, how many people he had touched, how many lives be had saved.
He smelled the cold black powder in this mercymaker he held to his cheek and wondered if it was really worth it.
His emotion tore at each other like men at war fought over what little remained after the horrible conflict of their arrogance.
What should he do?
This is the difference between the life and The End.