[Change is the only constant in life. Vyng's mother instilled that in him from a young age — maybe even earlier. At times that fact feels etched into Vyng's bones, seared into his blood, and creased into the palms of his hands.
But did his younger self have healthy examples of living with loss? His mother never aged. She kept her distance from the locals, and seldom spoke of his father. And his father? His father. . .
Well. Death doesn't lose anything.
(Death always takes, he coldly reminds Vyng. Look at me. Remember it well.)
But Vyng doesn't want to think of him right now. So, he shifts his attention to the natural swirls in the mahogany countertop. The damp bar mop towel in his hands. The quite shhhhhh of the faucet. He runs a thumb across his black-glass ring and lets out a slow breath.]
I never forgot.
It just. . . took awhile to actually let myself feel that loss, is all.
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But did his younger self have healthy examples of living with loss? His mother never aged. She kept her distance from the locals, and seldom spoke of his father. And his father? His father. . .
Well. Death doesn't lose anything.
(Death always takes, he coldly reminds Vyng. Look at me. Remember it well.)
But Vyng doesn't want to think of him right now. So, he shifts his attention to the natural swirls in the mahogany countertop. The damp bar mop towel in his hands. The quite shhhhhh of the faucet. He runs a thumb across his black-glass ring and lets out a slow breath.]
I never forgot.
It just. . . took awhile to actually let myself feel that loss, is all.