He presented himself as a sad, broken man. He sat across from her with his head hanging low with a furrowed brow. Something was wrong but she was convinced it wasn’t a broken spirit. He was lying with his posture. But what was he masking?
Everyone in the circle was bleeding and breathing fire. Running ragged. Running scared. But there was no time to turn back now. They just all had to do their own self-inventory of strengths and which lines they were willing to cross. And yes they were about to cross many. But him, she wouldn’t trust. His posture was too fuzzy for what was coming next.