That make you cry

He does not like being alone.
To have no one near, to speak to, to flirt with, to touch...
To hate him, to chase him.
Do what they will, he needs it.

little things to distract him, little things to think about, a fire to keep the cold memories at bay...

Memories of a lonely mind

Rain

it rained that day too

The once upon a time mighty kingdom of France, made powerful by napoleon, for France was a coward.
a lover, not a fighter.

Needed a leader to make him strong, Lead him, Use him, never let him break.

He could remember, hours spent planning attacks, balanced out with long hours merely sitting and talking.

And their laughter filled the halls like the merry cries of bells while other nations fell and rose about them, glasses raised, praise France, no no, praise Napoleon!

but, as humans tend to do...

The man grew ill.

The merryment was not lost, for France would sit beside his bed and weave him tales of battles and stories of myth, and the pealing of bells would return, and all was right.

by May 4, he was worse. The weather was terrible, the rain

fell in torrents; the wind destroyed all the plantings that lined the grand building.

A single tree, a willow, under which he loved to rest, still resisted...

A whirlwind uprooted it and carried it away as if nothing Napoleon had liked, nothing they had spent time together near, would survive him, and yet the violence of the storm, the noise of the hurricane, had not drawn him from the lethargic stupor where he had been plunged.

Finally, the next day, May 5 1821, an anniversary Doctor Antomarchi told the French on Saint-Helena that the Emperor had only a few moments to live.

This news, though long expected, was greeted by silence and a most profound sorrow.

one must imagine the sorrow and ache of heart the nation himself felt, while the great man expired, one of the few he so dearly loved.

servants counted in tears, the last pulsations of his heart

the eloquent silence of this scene of death was only disturbed by the gasping and panting of Napoleon and the prayers of the blond man who stayed ever so loyal beside him.

A sigh escaped from noble chest, hope was reborn!... Suddenly Napoleon made an effort; he sought to raise his head; the words France!... Army...! escaped his mouth ... It was the last he spoke.

rushing, and falling to his knees beside the bed of Napoleon, taking the hands that France covered with kisses and tears.

counted the intervals from one pulse to another: fifteen seconds, then thirty, then a minute passed.

At the same time the cannon of the forts of Saint-Helena announced sunset, Napoleon breathed his last, His great soul apparently waiting to escape from its body with that great signal. The star of the day and Napoleon were all extinguished in the same shroud of purple and glory.

And France's tears...

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I'll be placing France's less happy memories here
feel free to track.