The Title is Absent

I reached the end of what seemed to be a field of cows, of all things. Call me paranoid, but with the circumstances I was facing, I was desperate to keep alive--and these large animals that had been stomping and lifting dirt since I could think properly weren't going to exactly help me to do so. At the same time, I knew that I had to remain calm in order to progress any further. I closed my eyes and took my chances; my dirt crusted hands felt around earth's surface--my touch sense was at its full ability by now, and I followed behind the pace of my hands as it pulled past itchy, thorny strands of grass and hay.

Eventually, I had felt something very diverse from the previous encounters. It was hard and,--due to the radiation of heat from the sun rays that now appeared rather outgoingly--very hot. My sight senses now found the time to take action and look downwards. Cement. It seemed smooth, and the texture in the red made it appear as a formerly rich color that was now faded red through time. There were a few chipped peices of the paint, but it wasn't much for me to care about. Alas, I got myself onto my feet and wobbled down about a foot before my fall. My hands were already in pain from the stomps of a few hooves, and I had a feeling that a few bones may have been crushed. The trip I took was no benefit, either. It was like a sign of discouragement.

I couldn't feel anything now except numbness. Tears streamed down my cheeks, and the heat grew stern and flashes directly in my face. The animals sniffed at me and made a noise I could only hear to a blur, and I finally made a choice.

Death.

I rested my eyes for the last time.

Or was it?