With luck, he says. Gabe tightens his jaw and rubs at it to try and release some tension. His jaw’s been popping lately, an unpleasant revelation about what anxiety and bad thoughts can manifest in the body. With luck and the grace of God. Only Gabe was raised Catholic and he knows a thing or two about what God loves, most of it written by suffering. It’s never enough. Only the martyrs ever got to be done.
“We’ll go tomorrow,” he says instead of agreeing. “You’ll see what you see and we’ll assess.”
Maybe they’ll get supplies. Maybe it’ll be a dangerous waste of time. They won’t know until they know. Gabe, a cynic at heart, nonetheless refuses to die easily.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2025-12-23 02:43 am (UTC)“We’ll go tomorrow,” he says instead of agreeing. “You’ll see what you see and we’ll assess.”
Maybe they’ll get supplies. Maybe it’ll be a dangerous waste of time. They won’t know until they know. Gabe, a cynic at heart, nonetheless refuses to die easily.