I stomped into the blizzard-ravaged city. He really has grown up, hasn’t he? I thought, calming down and struggling to lock away my inner petulant child. I strolled down the main street of the city Dolus currently called home. The snow plows had begun their work clearing the snow I had created. I looked in the shops and cafes, wondering what had drawn him here. Why had he stayed? What had made him change?
“I cannot imagine your pain.” I can. He’s mourning for someone very special, and, in my own way, so have I been. “But what I can tell you is that I am not the person that caused that. I do not know who took your daughter away from you, but will you allow me to help you on that quest?” He says nothing.
A woman stood at my window with her arms folded and a golden shield clipped at her waist. She had curly brown hair with light brown skin and freckles across her nose. Her hazel eyes pierced mine, and her lips were pursed from her thoughts.
It’s the subconscious thoughts swirling around your brain that don’t really have a place in everyday conversation. You can’t just discuss your personal philosophies or how much you detest raisins so openly. You can’t even really plan for conversations like this. They just kind of pop up unexpectedly. I think that’s why she stops working on her story, because we have an opportunity to unleash our gooey underbellies, and they don’t often see the light of day.