“Good evening, Listeners.” Cecil gulped, his voice cracking on the very last syllable. “Today, is not the day for celebration.” He paused, eyes fluttering shut. He could feel his eyes grow quite moist at just the thought of announcing this. “Our, dearest, dearest Carlos… Has left us… and Night Vale.” He spoke in a heavy tone, doing everything in his power not to throw the microphone against the wall. “I am not allowed to disclose why or how, but please, let us remember that the secret police, are ALWAYS watching.” He bit his lip so hard little blots of blood bubbled at the surface. His magnificent, perfect Carlos was gone. There was nothing left for him in Night Vale, nothing worth living for. He placed a shaky hand over the desk and leaned forward. “ Do NOT try to investigate the secrets of Night Vale, listeners. Do not try to confront the hooded figures.” He heaved, his voice shaking with remorse. “ Just, stay inside, feed your children, and draw the curtains shut.” He choked, his voice barely a whisper. Images of his perfect, beautiful scientist flashed through his mind, and he almost broke his pencil in half. Soft tears threatened to escape his tear ducts, to wash away the kisses Carlos left on his cheek. “And now, dear listeners… The weather.” Cecil huffed, clicking off the microphone. He leaned back in his chair, scrubbing his hands roughly over his face. He wanted to remember, to feel his gentle, curious touch once more, but it was never going to happen.