He growls under his breath, frustrated with himself. Then he pulls it together. Settles in again.
Hat box. Symbols. One by one.
He studies the way he arranged them in the box, this time. Examines each one, thinks of each person and the pain behind each memory. That moment of disorientation when he saw Doc face to face after the fight with Wyatt and thought he was seeing himself. Watching Negan's hands on the sharpened butterknife, cutting vegetables, a motion that was simple and domestic and entirely at odds with the way they--he--brought that bat down in the dark. Parker clinging to her rabbit. Callisto lying on the floor, looking at him like he'd grown a second head. One person at a time, one memory at a time.
He picks up the lid and places it gently--firmly--onto the box, keeping his eyes shut.
no subject
Hat box. Symbols. One by one.
He studies the way he arranged them in the box, this time. Examines each one, thinks of each person and the pain behind each memory. That moment of disorientation when he saw Doc face to face after the fight with Wyatt and thought he was seeing himself. Watching Negan's hands on the sharpened butterknife, cutting vegetables, a motion that was simple and domestic and entirely at odds with the way they--he--brought that bat down in the dark. Parker clinging to her rabbit. Callisto lying on the floor, looking at him like he'd grown a second head. One person at a time, one memory at a time.
He picks up the lid and places it gently--firmly--onto the box, keeping his eyes shut.
"Done," he murmurs, not sure how long it's taken.