The light blinked persistently—on, off, on, off—a dense blanket of fog shrouding the streets. Silence hung in the air, save for a distant, soft moan. The streetlamp's erratic flicker cast contorted shadows upon the bridge, erasing them swiftly. From the twisted heap of blue metal, once a car, now entwined with the wavering streetlamp, rose a wisp of smoke. Another moan escaped his lips, this time with resolute purpose. A crimson glow bathed the ground, an eerie mix of solace and malevolence. Though the night was youthful, he was aged, intoxicated, and burdened with knowledge of his deeds. The light stuttered, then ceased its dance forever. Simultaneously, the moans ceased as well, leaving his actions forever unreckoned. As the fog lifted, the truth emerged.
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