I sit still leaning over Theos' cold lifeless body. It feels so surreal, like I'm floating on a cloud right above the land. I see and hear everything, but I'm unable to touch or react in any way. I study the lines on his face, his receding hairline and the thick brimmed glasses he was never seen without. I sit, for what feels like forever, just staring at the man I once knew, appreciated, respected and mostly, loved. Hunter still kneels beside me, words unspoken. He slides his hand over mine, and for the first time I really look at them. His fingers were long, framed with scars of blades. I run my fingers along each scar, each healed wound. How could something so full of imperfections, be so perfect at the same time? Hunter tightens his grip, locking his fingers in mine, causing a small sm
