The figure stood in front of the walk down memory lane, well it was that for him; most people knew it by another name. He mused for a second, did he want to do this? Quietly, he made up his mind and stepped forward. Walking towards the entrance, he seemed like any other mortal, engaged in an unusual activity for who he seemed to be, but not too unusual; it even made sense. Smiling slightly at the contradictory of who he was, he paid his fare and entered. Once look at the first ceiling and he was entranced by memories; he remembered walking, dancing under such a ceiling not too long ago. Swishes of green and red and purple twirled against the corners of his mind, the corners of his sight. He gazed inwardly at beautifully cut jackets and perfectly fitted trousers. Hair crept down to his shoulders and curled at the tips. He smiled; that was a good lifetime; he had enjoyed every moment he had had; when he realized he had stayed too long, he had been beside himself with anguish; he could not leave; he had too much there. Knowing there was only one way he could go without leaving a wreck behind, he had induced a mugging and lain breathless until he was discovered. The reaction, the fallout had tore his immortal heart in three, but he had remained lifeless. Flashes danced across his mind before he pulled himself out of the reverie with a grimace. Happy times always had heart-rending endings and happy endings only came with heart-rending times. It was how it always been. Moving forward, he turned left and found himself surrounded by marble; aah, they were going it about it that way. He gazed at the statues and grinned at how they would have reacted to being here. Mortals wrote about them, read about them, mentioned them-casually and in formal speech- but they would never know them. They would never understand how their favorite philosopher or hero or mathematician laughed or looked when he was confused or asked about how to style his hair. He smiled at some of the antics he had gotten up to with these men. It was ironic, he supposed, that he lived forever but it was as if he never existed; while they lived limitedly but existed forever. An almost flat cylinder caught his eye; he looked at the image engraved and nearly teared up remembering. He walked past this area and took a few lefts and a right until he looked up from the floor. He found himself face to face with a rug that took him to a time far, far away. He smiled as he remembered silks and rugs and rich language and culture. He tasted exotic flavors and remembered sweltering days and freezing nights. He felt the prick of a cactus and hungered for the sweetness of a date, straight from a palm. He gazed at the riches surrounding him and grinned; that time was an exception to his happy and heart-rending rule; he had been happy and because he had been largely a lone wolf, he had not had to leave prematurely; he had lived out that era without worry. He moved forward again, taking four lefts and three rights before stopping to look up. What he saw, touched his heart, but he did not stay long; he couldn't. The night had already bled almost into dawn and if it was any other time, he could have stayed and dwelled, but in this particular time, he would not have left; he would have stayed for ages and decades until he had been torn away. His reflections would have consumed him; they would not have been happy recollections; he would have been torn apart; he already was beginning to feel the effects of dwelling too long on then. He sighed and turned, walking blindly past eras until he felt the cool night air. He took deep breaths, gulping in the air he did not need, looking at the sky that would house one of the few things that could end him. He smiled at the risk as he walked to his apartment; he hummed under breath; he felt jubilant that he was risking it all; he felt; he truly felt. His emotions mixed with pain that only increased as the watches around him ticked. He reached his building and flew up the stairs; with the sunrise looming, he felt his heart pound and muscles begin to ache and he longed to make them burn; he did find himself in this situation often; he was not one to take suicidal risks for pleasure, but when such an occasion presented itself, he let himself enjoy it. He relished in everything he felt until the moment he reached his bedroom with curtains pulled. He mustered the energy to close his door - locking his front door had taken more out of him than he had thought- and collapsed the second darkness surrounded him and sunlight illuminated the world.