Chapter 20

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Chapter 20
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Wilting Wood
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Leafy's P.O.V:

Something about the sunset called my name. I couldn't tell if it was the colors that always blended so beautifully together like a soft summer waltz or the fact I knew the night was approaching. The black abyss of darkness with speckled lights of hope and care.

I could always walk up the hill and stare at the city, but it wasn't the same. Nothing ever was.

It was something I loathed to admit I was enjoying though. Despite the several promises I had made to myself over the past years.

Oh, and the stars. I also liked the stars... They were also really nice.

I pulled my sight away from the gleaming horizon and centered it back on the ash in the fire pit. Even if I was outside in the middle of a prairie, I needed to clean it. Soot and ash tended to pile up quickly; more so when it was colder. Didn't help that the rough winds of the afternoon had made a mess of it as well.

I stuck my hand into the pile of smoldered wood, quickly piling them in my arms as the black dusted itself onto my shirt. Inconvenient but I could deal with that later. There was a small amount of burnt wood, as per usual, but I left a branch in the ring. I'd use it later, probably for drawing. That, or more likely to restart the fire with new wood. And considering the sun was setting, it was going to be the latter.

Though I struggled to keep myself balanced, I got up, heading to the far edge of my campground. One that I had dug in the ground with a stick when I needed to make a base.

Tedious and repetitive: that's how I felt about life. It was an endless circle that I hated but it kept me alive. Why change something that works? Something that functions great even if it harms those in it? Cause it works. And yet I didn't get it.

I didn't understand it.

I didn't understand myself.

Of all things, I didn't understand me. Although it wasn't surprising, seeing how many people hated me—but that wasn't what bothered me this time around. As much as that was irritating, this time it was something different. Something that I couldn't put my finger on.

The makeshift garbage ground came into view the more I thought to myself. I steadily navigated the rocky terrain, trying not to trip as I had a couple of days ago. Still, I could only sigh at my thoughts.

It was a lie. I did know what it was but just thinking about it was weird. Maybe it was the "existential-crisis-kind-of-thing" about it that was frustrating or the fact he kept coming week after week.

Hm.

Definitely the existential crisis kind.

So many times cursing under the golden glow of the moonlight to just welcome him like it was all water under the bridge.

It was though...

Another sigh left my mouth as I threw the burnt wood to the ground, hearing it roll into the small terribly excavated hole.

I really liked the company—I truly did—but that's what terrified me. The sudden willingness to trust someone I hadn't seen—let alone talked—in years because they needed to know I was fine. It was an existential crisis clash that wasn't letting me sleep at night.

Though that's been harder to do since Coiny started visiting at night...

Even his name sounded off in my head, like a foreign name being pronounced. I gave him my trust when I vowed to never do so again. To never let anyone close again. To never let anyone hurt me again.

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