Northstar Vale Thánatos

he leaned back into the man. uncertain if he wished to wail loudly with the crushing grief, or if he wished to hold onto it. what good would it do? clinging to the sadness, holding it in his heart to let it rot him out from the center.

it is hard to leave here.

his voice a croaky creak. the weight of his sadness against the floorboards of his heart.

somehow he felt aged beyond any comparable sense, as if the sudden death had shot him forward in life. one of his first children. his first daughter.

gone.