What he finds at the first door is a wolf's fang, bone-white and gleaming under the mess--young man, looking so, so tired. You want so much to reach out to him, when it looks like a strong breeze might knock him right over, but you know that he will certainly reject it. Regret is a knife in the back, a wolf's lonely howl in the distance--
and the fourth door has a folded handkerchief, a lipstick kiss mark in the corner: a man laughing cheerfully, seated across a campfire from you, exuding a warmth that you feel has to be genuine. Regret is your own loneliness, the greater understanding of a camaraderie and team you could have had, but has been taken from you.
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and the fourth door has a folded handkerchief, a lipstick kiss mark in the corner: a man laughing cheerfully, seated across a campfire from you, exuding a warmth that you feel has to be genuine. Regret is your own loneliness, the greater understanding of a camaraderie and team you could have had, but has been taken from you.