Page 106 of Paint the Town, Dove

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No, no, no, no, no–

This wasn’t a kiss of desperation or want or need.

We’d never –

He’d never break this barrier unless he was planning to –

He traced a lone finger over his swollen lip, eyes buried in a suffering I hadn’t seen in a decade.

“Ryden –Ryden,” I repeated in a desperate plea, but he was so…

So far away.

I grabbed onto his jacket, I grabbed onto his shirt, I grabbed onto him –

Him,

Him,

And he just…

Kept –

Walking.

“Please,” I begged, my own tears blinding me, “please don’t go off the rails, please don’t do this, please, Ryden, come back to me –”

My wasted cries for a wasted man.

“Please come home!” I yelled. “PLEASE, RYDEN, I can’t see you drown again –”

He turned to me then, eyes vacant of life. “I’ve never stopped drowning.”

The world blurred in and out –

In and out –

As I watched him walk farther, and farther, and farther.

I couldn’t –

I couldn’t feel my –

“I can’t, breathe,” I –

Morty, I think, he grabbed me tight.

He heard me yell.

“I’ll watch him,” he told me.

“No, no, no, no, no, MORTY, that’smyjob!”

Then another set of arms, holding me back, bracelets on either side of his wrist – Tav – the scent of wood and fire, draping a blanket overme.

“That’s my job!” I yelled into the night.

“Shh, Red,” Tav pulled me close. “Let him sort his thoughts out. Lord knows he needs it.”

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