@lonegun : 🙶 some days, i don't know what the hell to think. 🙷
HE DRAGS A HAND ACROSS HIS CHIN, ducking his head. the brim of his hat shrouds his eyes in shadow as he twists the tip of his boot through the dirt, disturbing a cloud of dust. It lingers on the wind for a moment, briefly chasing the freedom of flight before settling back on the same desolate ground it came from. even the dirt, it seems, is damned by predestination.
🙶 reckon I know the feeling. 🙷 oh, what he wouldn’t give to have an answer. a solution. anything of worth. there’s something ugly in his ribs, a dark little thing that whispers you should’ve come to someone else. someone who knows how to help you. someone better. what can he do when all he has to offer are more questions of his own ? these days, it feels like answers are far and few between-- for all of them. perhaps they’re only as real as any of his other dreams have been as of late. he keeps these thoughts tucked behind the safety of his teeth. they aren’t a help to anyone ( least of all now. )
he wants to help ease the burden of the day. that, at least, he is able to do.
he shifts his weight, squinting into the sun to study joel. 🙶 ride with me ? 🙷 he offers up a crooked smile, something rusty & entirely genuine. 🙶 if you got the time, that is. 🙷 he amends, offering an out. some thoughts aren’t soothed by company. he’s no stranger to the odd week spent in the wilderness when things get too heavy.
