BornToLose
He tried again and again.
It didn't work, couldn't. Fine. He'd try again.
Back in line, another window, hoping fruitlessly that this one would satisfy his urge to find out where, exactly, his Grandmother's ashes had been lost.
The triangles shattered at the merest hint, the slightest mention, of the shrill alarm.
The extra warning was no good, though. By the time they heard the crash--television shows and emails proved distracting--nothing could be done.