Something in Nothing

In faerie tales, when a man goes off in search of the minions of evil, that makes him a hero, doesn’t it? And the hero always comes home, triumphant if a little tired.

Every fiber of my being screams that it’s time to cut my loses and run; he’s gone the way of the girl and I’ve got to get moving. I have to leave this place. But at the same time, some strong, heavy part of me is shouting that he’ll come home any time, any moment, and I have to be here for him.

I managed to convince my superior that my absences are justifiable due to personal issues. There was even some sympathy, condolences and assurance that everthing will work out okay. Call him, talk to him, or just wait and go on like I don’t miss him. Because eventually he’ll realize the mistake of leaving and come back to me.

 But no one seems to believe me that I don’t know where Blake is.

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