Yeah, maybe. [ He's not sure that it is, but he doesn't know why. He could say something, could mention one of the few things he knows, but it doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel right, and his feet are taking him to a small memorial, a stone plaque on the ground, covered in a layer of dust.
He pauses in front of it for a second, then brushes it off with his foot.
His name stares back at him, in simple block letters. Something sinks in his gut. His mouth feels dry. ]
no subject
He pauses in front of it for a second, then brushes it off with his foot.
His name stares back at him, in simple block letters. Something sinks in his gut. His mouth feels dry. ]
You were right.