Famous Last Words

A match was lit and a fire was born. At it's peak it roars, challenging the dark night, illuminating the street. A small drizzle starts hailing from the sky. It's surroundings become wet and the roaring flame starts to dwindle, 'til there is only but a spark left. Not enough to rebuild itself but not small enough to die. There is nothing to rebuild the fire - and then the rain stops. The spark flickering in the dark night wishing it could come back to life, it'll just wither away: never, never to be seen again.