Tears of blood that heal all wounds, just not the wound of lost love. A man decent into Hell. A perfection held in a gilded cage. A dream of escape for even those that find themselves cast from Heaven.

Each day begins with the Claxton. It wakes him from his sleep. It tells him to work. It sends him home. It is the only structure of time, something he can not even feel occurring, that exists for him. Even then, everywhere he turns there are those boxes that collect his blood as payment for his needs and desires. They pull at him hungry for this blood. The pain is unbearable, but it must be taken if he is to eat, ride the train, even enter his own apartment.

He has no memory of how he arrived here, where ever here is. Everything before this life seems like a dream, the kind that appears to him in sleep, between those invading Claxton bells blaring him awake. Demanding he move.

It covers him in terror, worry. The whole of this world is blanketed by dread and the sinking feeling of falling away from himself at all times.

Until he meets her. The woman in the golden cage, who’s bloody tears can bring comfort from pain, heal wounds, and end suffering.

All the while the never-ending day sits above them; a brilliant white star glaring down. Watching, revealing it stands as the center of all reality. Never changing.