The city was bathed in the glimmer of multicolored strings of lights, and rings of evergreen boughs decorated every street corner. A confetti of snow drifted softly down to earth, forming a light dust over the seasonal decorations and adding its own festive touch. The holiday spirit cast its glow on the city, a feeling that was dampened by the blanket of clouds that loomed overhead. Their dark gray tone carried a threatening promise, and as the snow began to fall faster, many pedestrians frowned gloomily and hurried along their way. Somewhere in the distance bells chimed, announcing with their rings the time- 12:00 PM.
          

Only one man seemed unaffected by the pall of the approaching blizzard. He walked through the snow with a bounce in his step, humming a merry tune to himself as he went. No heed was paid to the downy flakes that accumulated in his midnight-black hair, and his icy blue eyes seemed to look past the overcast sky and the fading light as the blizzard began to grow in strength. The only sign Ianthe displayed of the chill his body felt was the rosiness in his cheeks. Continuing to walk with head slightly bowed against the force of the wind, Ianthe found his eyes drawn to the sky, lingering on an open window of an apartment building in which drapes fluttered before finding the overcast heavens.
          

Suddenly, the man’s gaze was drawn back to the open window. A woman was perched precariously on the narrow stone ledge in front of it- only her beauty was far too great to be human. Ianthe caught his breath as a sharp gust of wind caused the girl to wobble dangerously, her white gown billowing with the wind, before her balance was regained. He breathed a sigh of relief and continued on his way, drawing nearer to the apartment building. Again Ianthe caught his eyes wandering upward, toward that window. For a moment was sure that his mind had been playing tricks on him, for there was nothing there but the fluttering drapes…then he saw her again, among the flapping curtains.
          

Her arms were spread like wings, head thrown back so that it harked the heavens, though her eyes were not open to greet the sight of the gloomy clouds. Another gust of wind, and her golden locks trailed across her face. Once more the woman wobbled dangerously, and seemed to maintain her delicate balance atop the ledge. Then her spine curved ever so slightly- Ianthe squinted through the thickening snowstorm- and she arced forward.
          

The swirling snow toyed with the young man’s vision, so that he was unable to determine whether or not what he was witnessing was real. A pair of feathery winds had unfurled from the woman’s side as she made her quick descent toward the ground, and an empyrean glow surrounded her slight form. Her golden tresses had been swept back by the speed of her descent, and flowed out behind her like the mane of a horse. Ianthe stood gaping, oblivious to the impatient crowd bustling around him. One second, two…he waited for the angel to use her wings to stop her descent, but the moment never came. The wind gusted again, clearing the snow from his vision for an instant- and in that instant, the wings and halo had vanished.
          

With a gruesome thud, the young woman’s body collided with the cement. People skirted around her, some crying out with alarm, others standing in silent shock. None rushed forward to aid her, and some of the pedestrians even passed her by, their expressions aloof. For a moment Ianthe was one of the paralyzed, but then the girl stirred faintly, and her moan of pain was borne the man’s ears by the storm. Though he couldn’t feel his legs, as if they had been numbed by the cold, Ianthe’s mind managed to snap out of its detached daze. In what seemed an instant he was pushing through the crowd…then time made a quantum leap and he was kneeling at her side.
          

It was not the petals of crimson blossoming on the woman's nightgown that drew his gaze, nor the thin trickle of blood making its way down her chin. It was her eyes...those sienna-brown eyes glazed with pain, and so human. The sight stirred something deep within Ianthe, and a lump rose in his chest, barring his ability to speak. A crowd of people was beginning to surround the pair, their words and faces indistinct. Ianthe could make out the horrified expression of a young woman nearby- her eyes wide, her face pale. She looked as helpless as the young man felt. His mind was a whirlwind that seemed incapable of setting itself on just one thought. What could he do? With every moment he sat here doing nothing, the woman was slipping closer to death. Her chest was rising and falling less rapidly now, and that terrible unresponsive look in her gaze was becoming more pronounced. Her eyes found him, seeming to plead from their pain-filled depths. A single tear ran down her cheek, and mingled with the rivulet of blood that ran down her chin. This tear- that look- if anything, helped Ianthe to find his voice.
          

“Call an ambulance, someone...call an ambulance!”
          

He didn't wait to see whether anyone complied. The woman's lips were moving soundlessly, as if she were trying to speak. Ianthe moved closer, trembling with restrained emotion, and held his ear close to her lips. She spoke at first so silently that he could not hear her above the wind of the storm, but then seemed to draw from some inner strength, and whispered to him in a more audible tone.
          

“S-so c-c-cold...”
          

The words were difficult to make out with the chattering of her teeth. It was the woman's body language more than her jumbled phrase that expressed her physical need to Ianthe. He saw her lips turning a slight purple tinge, and her skin shuddering as she shivered violently in the snow. Without hesitation Ianthe took off his parka, and though he was hesitant to move the injured woman, wrapped it around her. Her shivering did not cease, but was less violent than before. She smiled faintly at the young man, an expression that sent a dagger of inexpressible emotion through his heart. It was difficult for Ianthe to believe that a woman like this, who appeared so kind, and gentle, so frail, had been up on that ledge of her own accord.
          

How long he sat there in the snow at her side, with the wind whipping through and seeming to pierce to the very bone, Ianthe could not have told. He was not aware of time, or of the people who had gathered around, their eyes greedily eating every moment of this tragedy. Only the woman was in his conscious thoughts, the woman whose eyelids had begun to drop, and now half-covered those pain-glazed pools. Then, suddenly, a voice spoke at his side. Ianthe jumped, turning his head to recognize the young woman who had worn the terrified expression. Her eyes were clearer now, and her words spoken in a manner that was between calm, and sheer panic.
          

“She's in shock...don't let her go to sleep, or we could lose her.”
          

It took a moment for these words to penetrate Ianthe's confused mind, but when they did, he turned quickly to the injured woman and shook her frantically. She cried out, her face screwed up with pain, and Ianthe felt an instant pang of guilt. But her eyes were fully open again, and though still glazed, seemed more alert as they gazed into his own. In that moment, he felt a strong connection with the woman and struggled for every breath with her, his entire body aching. It was as if both her pain and her struggle to continue living were his. He reached for her hand to hold it in his own.
          

“What's your name?”
          

Ianthe found it hard to believe that these words had come from him. They were spoken so softly, so calmly...as if he were not sitting by the side of a dying woman, holding her hand and looking into her anguished eyes. For a moment her eyes closed, and Ianthe was just preparing to shake her back to consciousness when they opened once more. She struggled to speak for a moment, and then managed to murmur in a tone hardly different than Ianthe's.
          

“Evelyn.”
          

Again she smiled, and Ianthe experienced that ache in his heart. He felt close to tears, but feared that if he broke down in front of this woman- in front of Evelyn- she would know how poor her chances seemed and give up. Ianthe grasped at something, anything, to help him maintain control. Finally, he decided to continue speaking to her, and keep her alert until the ambulance arrived. It seemed ages since he had shouted for someone to call one, but he couldn't be sure. Time was playing tricks tonight, racing with the blustering winds and then losing itself in the snowy haze.
          

“Evelyn...that's a beautiful name. Celtic, isn't it?”
          

His words seemed so stupid, so out of place for the situation, but they were as much to keep himself from panicking as to keep Evelyn calm. For a moment he thought she would not respond, but then she nodded silently, her expression changing noticeably to mingled joy and sorrow before she spoke again.
          

“Yes...my mother named me. She told me that no other name could fit a child so beautiful and full of life.”
          

Ianthe was uncertain of how to respond to this statement and let his gaze drop momentarily. Then Evelyn's hand squeezed his tighter, and he looked at her once more. In the seconds he had looked away her expression had changed once more...it was now terrified and serious. Another tear traced a path down her cheek, but Evelyn did not seem to notice. She continued to grip Ianthe's hand tightly, her intensely emotional eyes never faltering from his own, and uttered urgently.
          

“But I'm different now. I-I don't want to live. Please, I beg you...let me die.”
          

In the shock of hearing such a beautiful and seemingly innocent creature speak such hopeless words, Ianthe almost gave in to his emotions. Only the greatest of willpowers allowed him to fight back tears, and shake his head as he looked into Evelyn's pleading eyes. Evelyn's face fell at this gesture, and silent tears began to run down her cheeks. She tore her gaze away from Ianthe and looked emptily up at the sky, observing the dark clouds overhead. She remained silent this way for long seconds, before still staring upwards, she addressed the young man once more.
          

“But why? Why should you, a stranger, care when no one else does?”
          

The genuine confusion in her voice hurt Ianthe more than her plea for death. Silently he wondered what type of world that he lived in, where a woman such as this could be reduced to such a lowly state, and could see her life as being so menial that there was no point to continue it. A spark of hatred rose inside, and left a bitter taste in his mouth. For an instant he hated the very world, himself included, for letting such a tragedy occur...for being so willing to let the life of Evelyn slip through its fingers.
          

“Because I believe every life has a purpose, and worth. I'm not going to let you throw that away.”
          

Evelyn's sorrow-filled eyes were on him once more, but there was something else mingled in their depths now. Was it pity?
          

“I’m sorry,” she whispered softly, allowing her eyelids to drop once more. Ianthe’s spine stiffened, and his heart started beating a rapid tattoo against his ribs. Her eyes did not open again. She was giving up…he couldn’t let Evelyn give up.
          

“Evelyn. Evelyn!” Ianthe spoke urgently, slapping her face gently at first, but harder when she did not respond. Again those pain-brimmed eyes flew open, and for a moment there was no recognition in them. Then something seemed to flicker deep within them, something that Ianthe could not comprehend. He thought for a moment he had read regret in Evelyn’s eyes, but if it had been there, it was gone as quickly as it had come.
          

“Why...why did you do this?” the young man interrogated, afraid that she would begin to drift off again.

“My mother, Isabel, was always so kind, so caring. She did whatever she could to help the less f          ortunate, even though our family wasn’t much better off...everyone agrees that she was a good soul.”
          

Evelyn paused now to take a deep breath, her chest hitching slightly. Ianthe could tell the subject was painful for her, and was about to try and change the topic when she continued in a haunted, hollow tone.
          

“She- she worked in an office, but it wasn’t where her heart was. Forty hours a week, sometimes more, she would sit behind that desk. But she always found time to volunteer…I used to help out too. And then- and then…”
          

Words seemed to have failed the young woman. She began to sob with abandon, in spite of the obvious pain it caused her. Evelyn’s cheeks, already stained with the passage of other tears, were washed once more. Ianthe tried to soothe her, wiping the tears away from her cheek gently, but the injured woman did not seem to feel his touch, nor did she seem aware of his presence. Evelyn was living her past once more.
          

“One day I was sick with a fever…my mom said she would stay home and take care of me. But I told her, ‘no, I’m fine, I can take care of myself.’ I told her to go to work, and that she’d see me when she got home. But she- she never did.
          

“That day in September is a day I am sure many will never forget. The planes crashing, all in the name of hatred…the chaos and fear that gripped the nation, the lives that were lost. The World Trade Center went up in flames, then fell to the ground in a mess of rubble…with my mother inside. And I sent her there. I sent her to die.”
          

Ianthe sat, astounded, as the blizzard rained down mercilessly upon them. He knew as well as anyone else the aftermath that single day had inflicted upon the entire country…but not until now had he witnessed its long-term effects. One year, two, three had passed, and the tragic memories of such a disaster had begun to fade into the deep recesses of his mind. Never had Ianthe imagined that there were still people who recalled it every day, who still mourned for the loss they had suffered. And never would he have dreamt that the families of those lost would blame themselves. For moments Ianthe pondered this, and realized that the human mind was a difficult thing to comprehend. It was so easy to grieve for such a disaster, and just as easy for those not directly affected to forget about it, and leave the rest to mourn in secrecy.
          

“But how could you have known?” Ianthe protested.
          

The flicker that he had believed to see in Evelyn’s eyes was there again. For a moment it seemed she would protest against Ianthe’s statement, but the weary look had returned. She simply laid back in silence, letting the downy flakes touch down on her lashes before blinking them away. In the silence Ianthe began to wonder where the ambulance was- he was sure it should have been here by now- and whether anybody had even bothered to call one. Most of the crowd had departed, but the young woman whose expression had been terrified, and who had told Ianthe not to let Evelyn fall asleep, still stood at his side. She was running a hand through her dark hair, glancing anxiously up and down the streets, as if wondering as well where the ambulance could be. But the only thing in sight was the swirling snow, and the only siren heard was that of the wind. With a touch of foreboding, Ianthe turned back to the injured woman. Her lack of an argument and her silence were unnerving; it was as if she had already died.
          

“Evelyn, I want you to listen to me. What happened was not your fault. You loved your mother, and would never have sent her to her death. So don’t blame yourself. I didn’t know her, but I am sure she would want you to keep living. Keep fighting, Evelyn. I believe in you…I believe you’re strong enough to live.”
          

“Don’t give up, Evelyn,” the dark-haired woman urged as well.
          

A dampness had welled in Evelyn’s eyes, threatening to overspill at any moment. Though she seemed to take heart from their words, however, Ianthe could not help but notice the awful way in which the rising of her chest had slowed. It was almost not visible, and the flush in her cheeks had nothing to do with warmth. The wounds that had seemed to cease bleeding wept anew, and the streamlet of blood continued to trace a path down Evelyn’s chin. The pain that she had borne without complaint was now evident in more than just her gaze, and the glazed look was deepening. A fit of coughing overcame her, bringing crimson-tinted foam to her lips, and Ianthe realized with a thrill of horror that the damages she had sustained on the inside were far worse than what was seen- Evelyn was bleeding to death internally.
          

Suddenly the man rose to a stand, squinting into the snow. There was a faint stirring of motion in the distance, but he could not make out what it was. Ianthe began to take a step forward, but felt Evelyn’s hand, still held in his, pull him back down into a kneeling position. Her expression was desperate, and Ianthe noticed her skin taking on a waxen look. Choking down sobs, he grasped her hand tighter.
          

“Don’t leave me,” Evelyn pleaded, her brown eyes wide with fear. “Please don’t leave me…I don’t want to be alone.”
          

Ianthe's eyes roved through the snowstorm frantically, as if just by willing it to, the ambulance would appear. But it did not…and as the man cast his eyes about, he realized that the crowd had departed, moving on to more urgent callings. His cold-numbed skin tingled as goose bumps rose upon it. Surrounded by a swirling fog of snow, Ianthe got the eerie feeling that he, Evelyn, and the dark-haired woman were the only living souls in the vast city.
          

“I won't,” Ianthe promised the frenetic woman. “Not ever.”
          

It took a few moments for the impact of Ianthe's words to reach him. Evelyn was beaming now through a sheen of tears, and when she extended her arms to embrace him, the young man did not hold back. He held her as tight as she held him, and though it was clearly painful for Evelyn, she did not cry out once. The wailing of sirens suddenly surrounded them, and flashes of red light cut through the white haze. An ambulance pulled up near the trio, and there was a babble of voices as the paramedics rushed to gather the emergency supplies.
          

“You did it,” Ianthe whispered softly to Evelyn, running a hand through her golden tresses as she held her to him. “You're going to make it.”
          

But Evelyn did not respond.
          

The ethereal glow he had seen surrounding her during her fall had returned. Surrounded by this light, the young woman looked livelier than Ianthe had ever seen her. Yet the feverish, pained glint had not departed from her eyes, making them look as if they were made of glass. Her face was no longer darkened with anguish, and a slight smile played on her lips, but Ianthe did not see it as a joyous smile. It was a haunting expression, one that made him shudder down to the very depth of his being...and when Evelyn spoke, it was in a similar tone.
          

“Life…valuable...”
          

Again her expression made one of those shifts, her mahogany eyes wide and urgent. Weakly she pulled the young man closer, so that her lips almost touched his ear, and whispered in a woebegone tone.
          

“Learn from my mistake…”
          

Evelyn's glassy eyes bored deep into Ianthe's blue, seeming to draw his soul through these two windows. At the same moment she expelled her breath with a shuddering sigh, and the brief something that had flickered in her eyes before returned, only this time it did not depart. This time it remained...a mixture of grief, sorrow, and pain. As Evelyn's body grew horribly still in his arms, Ianthe realized that the something that had flashed in her gaze was actually nothing. Her soul had departed, leaving behind only an empty shell...the young woman was dead.
          

As the paramedics hurried over, pushing Ianthe gently out of the way, the warmth he had drawn from the embrace seemed to vanish, and his entire body went numb once more. There was a gnawing feeling deep inside that had nothing to do with hunger, and centered not in the pit of his stomach, but in his heart. He watched emptily as the paramedics struggled in vain to bring Evelyn back to life, feeling as if his own lungs had stopped working. A hand fell gently on his shoulder as the dark-haired woman tried to console him, but Ianthe could not feel the gentle touch.
          

The paramedics had given up, and were covering Evelyn's body gently, their faces glum. While one began to gather the supplies, his hands shaking noticeably, the other glanced at his watch and softly uttered the time of death. 12:21 PM.
          

Ianthe tilted his head back to the sky, a silent wail of grief rising inside him. He thought of Evelyn, of how far she had come in such a short period of time...and of himself, and how much the past twenty minutes had changed his life. One last time he gazed at the open window with its fluttering drapes, and as the snow began to fall more gently, he could have sworn he saw a celestial light borne toward the heavens...the soul of a young woman who in such a short span of time he had grown to love.