Noctisardor Bypass laksen

The power in each torrential emotion Anselm felt caused him to look away; in that moment, he did not see the salt-burn of Heda’s stare or the glittering tears held in her eyes. 

He focused on a patch of grass not so far from them; how the sun bounced off its gently bobbing edges, how a halo of light seemed to dazzle around every blade. Strange what one noticed at times of discomfiture. 

He pushed away the welling emotions; Amadeo this, Amadeo that — and while he wanted to be furious he knew he had no right to be so. He and Heda simply did not fit. It did not matter how hard they tried to rearrange the pieces or smooth out each bitterly shattered edge; their margins ground against each other like bone on bone, leaving spurs of bitter pain at every contact. 

Amadeo was a man of god, which was more than Anselm could say. He tried to swallow and it felt as if his throat was a furnace of glass.

A man of God, Anselm marveled to himself with a bitter laugh. He vill be good for you, Heda.

Anselm could not stomach thinking of this a moment more. Overwhelmed by too many emotions and thoughts to put in rational order, he made something akin to a weakened exhale and rose, beginning to walk away.

He was hurting — and it never occurred to him that Heda was hurting more.