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Viewing Single Post From: Time steals us all away one day, does it not?
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Wayne had always admired people who were passionate about something. Art, writing, math, robotics, football - it didn't matter. When they found their passion, they gave it one hundred percent. They thought. They created.

Where they produced, he consumed. To make a video game was admirable. To play one was not.

That was part of the gap that had always hounded him, the gap between who he was and who he could be, the gap between who he was and who he should be. Intuitively he knew he should have had some kind of passion, something he cared about. He didn't. Gardening didn't count; he'd feared that once he got a job - if he got a job - it would have shown him that he only cared for it as a hobby. And drawing? That was just something he did to avoid doing what he needed to do.

Just another part of that ideal him he should have been. If he tried harder. If he could just shut everyone out and fix himself. But he never could.

He saw that passion, that conviction in Asha's eyes and in the set of her smile, heard it in the tone of her voice.

In that moment he placed Asha above him in his mental hierarchy.

Dorothy was right too, in that what she said seemed to so simply state what he had been trying to grasp all along. She didn't want to accept death. He couldn't either. He had his advantage, his weapon, and the panic and fear that lurked at the edge of his mind. He couldn't let them go, even if he wanted to.

"I think I get it," Wayne finally said. He nodded slightly, then leaned back a little deeper into the fence and looked at the sky, all too aware of where the other two were in relation to him and the places in the corners of his vision where someone else might suddenly pop up out of the blue. "It's not like I've got anything better to do, so... if we go with that, how do we get started?"
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Time steals us all away one day, does it not? · Northwest Cliffs