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"It wasn't the loving each other or the knowing they could never be together.
It wasn't the wind in the eaves of the empty house, or the bone-dry rattle of the pills in the brown-glass bottle.
It wasn't the bitter taste, with only a stale box of red wine to wash it away.
It wasn't waking, with her dead and you all too alive.
It was the way your fingers shook. It was a stammer, and the thickness of your tongue as you tried to speak. It was the sound of sirens, coming closer.
It was knowing that you would never get another chance."
-- Neil Gaiman, The Sandman: Endless Nights