Edmund, Quiet Courage of Solitude
Edmund likes his coffee black, in the silver mug his old friend gave him. In its familiar weight, he remembers mornings of laughter and secrets.
Maeve, The Game
I lie still beneath the autumn leaves as their edges poke my chin. Their golden-brown cover muffles the distant voices.
Roland, Asks Nothing
Gravel and leaves shift beneath his feet. The forest asks nothing of him—no decision, no answer. It simply lets him be.
