He entered limping, though I saw no wound.
He had the posture of a soldier, but no armor.78Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSIyQgi7LLY
The breath of a runner, but no destination.78Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjTaiCnJmfi
The look of someone who had survived barely and resented it.
He did not sit.
He stood by the wall and whispered:78Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4g95BQxNGe
78Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoXtntgn2iS
“How much farther could we march78Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaAHxqandIw
if we weren’t forced to carry our fears on our backs?”
No one else was in the tavern.
He didn’t look at me.78Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYUMjTyDmzx
But I brewed.
A slow-steep from ironseed, thistleroot, and something rare, gathered long ago from the cloak of a guest who said, “Courage tastes like forgetting what tried to stop you.”
He drank it like it was a punishment.
And then, he cried- not loudly.78Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡn1FLR9s0mI
Just one sound. Like a pack falling from the shoulders.
He left without taking the mug.
And I didn’t wash it.
It still smells faintly of rain and rust.
I don’t know his name.78Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡi5pgjfzqTa
But I remember the sound of what he let go.
And that is enough to keep him from the second death.
ns216.73.216.206da2
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