One thing about being in the 265th storey of a building is the view. It feels like heaven, to be honest. Below the clouds, vehicles are a dot in grey pavements. How strange that this heaven, to Zachary, was obtained by the notes of his guitar. 

I guess he liked music more than anything.

Zachary's memories, are clear in my head, even after fifteen years. Where could he be, now? How strange that the fame he chased was not acquired. That the sacrifices we both had to make was useless. Olivia, though? Did he not think that she would grow up without knowing him? He did not think of anyone before disappearing, did he? Not of me, not of Olivia, not of himself.

He liked music more than anything.

I hate music more than anything.

We're far apart, not only by distance, but by thoughts.

And my chain is Olivia.