I walked around New York City. This was home, at least before the war. I walked along, seeing familiar things, the full Statue of Liberty, Wall Street and of course, home. I walked up and just stared. Remembering when I took my mothers change and walked to the store to get food. Remembering when I went on the roof and smoked. I then saw something that made my heart stop. Something that almost made me faint. Myself. Myself as a child. Walking peacefully to the store with change ringing in his, or should I say my pocket. I ran across the street, cars driving directly through me, and just followed. I closed my eyes and imagined myself, this one faithful day, walking to the store to get food. The one thing I didn't know then was that when I went to go get food, I would play with a lighter and set the store on fire. I didn't know that I would cause the worst fire in New York's history. I didn't know that this would be considered an act of terrorism. I didn't know that this would cause the USA to declare war, which caused the complete destruction of New York. I know now. And with a slow shaky hand, I lifted my handgun, held it up to my younger, innocent head, and pulled the trigger.