A History [m.h.g.d.]

Boston

The noise from the crowd was so piercing he could feel it behind his eyes. Looking down, Matty could have sworn the floor had turned to pitch black sand that had started to swallow his ankles. He hadn't realized how quickly he'd been brought to his knees, tethered down by an acute sense of loneliness. With every blink, time seemed to slur together more slowly, caught in a strobing loop he could never hope to escape.

And very suddenly, something heavy was wrapping around his chest. Matty looked down to see his own fingers clutching a smear of green and red feathers. Somebody's arms. It was then that he recognized the steady pulse on his back that cut through the violent static.

His own mind went quiet for the first time in months as a cheek pressed against his own. A distant sound whispered into the shell of his ear as his eyes shuttered him into complete blackness.

"I'm here, Matthew."