steps quiet against the ground,
strands disheveled, a couch was soon headed for. plopping down.
been a long day. .̲.̲.̲ long weeks.
lost in own thoughts, knuckles
bruised and aching, it was a rarity, .̲.̲.̲ for senses to fail him like this.
torn from the depths of his mind, a cranium partially turned, another’s heartbeat ›
he can be found in the basement.
fists quick in their pursuit, a dummy serving as unfortunate victim.
unaware of the 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥’𝗦 presence.



































