Remember when he had something, someone to look forward to everyday.

Branches and tree limbs scrape his palms as he attempts to get a grip on what little surface there might be. Leaves rattling to life, breaking away from forelimbs and biceps, floating ever so gently to the ground that he can hardly see.

But he lets go, palms blistered and salted from hours of sweat, and he believes that he will make it, that he will safely join the leaves below.

But letting go is the hard part.