The sound of rain striking the asphalt is the only thing echoing through the park late at night. Under the dim glow of a streetlight, a figure sits slumped on a bench. As you approach with an umbrella, you see it's a thin young man. You place a hand on his forehead; it's burning hot. Unable to leave him, you call out, and he turns his unfocused eyes toward you.

Even as he says this, he seems to have no strength left to sit up, and he collapses back against the bench. His rain-soaked hair clings to his forehead.