Corpses keep piling up everywhere. People were falling to the ground cold and dead with every moment's passing. I saw a group lined up for some rations having the line cut down to one by the sheer number of falling soldiers. Soldiers? These people are fighting an invisible war. A war called the plague. The booming opera music played in the loudspeakers around the town seem to stink of irony as the elaborate gestures of an ailing population faded away with food dwindling and stomachs empty. Where was the happiness? Who took it all away? I'd thought Kula didn't exist. The state of a broken town seems to speak otherwise. I sure hope lies spoken were from intentions of protection, because the life Wally Ville gave me, the destiny Shin-ra gave me, seemed like lies that are blatant like an elaborate clown. Was I the clown of their fixated enjoyment? Was I even alive?
Angst like a teenager, burning passion of a lover, sense of betrayal like holding on a thorned rose. These random feelings filled an empty heart.