Sometimes a sadness too heavy, too crushing to carry, too heavy a burden, descends. It consumes, suffocates and freezes the chest, motionless, no rise and fall. Breath ceases. It eats away at the mind and rots in the gut. Festering and foul, it hangs as a stench in a small, enclosed room.  To encounter a cheat is to realize the grim composition of their mind. Compulsion hungers and hollow addiction exists, at the core of the behaviour. When sorrow is born from betrayal the air grows thicker and turns to smog.