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[ *  * ]
"Who, Alex?"

Wayne was going to say more, but the thought of Alex's two swords returned again, stopped the words and pushed them right back down and left him with only hypocritical judgments. Thief. Murderer. Lucky scavenger who had picked up something discarded and cast aside. Dorothy was right. He didn't want to see Alex again.

He didn't really want to see anyone else he knew again. But if he was going to keep pretending, if he was going to stay with these two, that was what lay ahead of him. It was easier to follow than lead. Easier to walk than think.

He took one last look upwards, judging the position of the sun in the sky, then shrugged his pack back onto his shoulder and began walking.

((Wayne Cox continued in 白色雑音))
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Time steals us all away one day, does it not? · Northwest Cliffs