The view from the glass was melancholy. The way the leaves in the wind blew softly landed onto the hard ground, and the cast of darkness from the night. It was quiet too very quiet. It unsettled Trey. His senses were enhanced by the paranoia he was facing. That he swallowed the spit in his throat slowly believing that someone might hear him swallow it, or something.
He was always a confident man who feared nothing. But since his father passing and the apocalypse occurring in the midst of it. All of that confidence was taken from him.
He pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them close to his body. He held back tears in his green orbs for he couldn't cry. It would ruin him to do so. It was unmanly of him. He wouldn't dishonor his father by doing so again.
"It's late."
"Zane?" Trey
