There wasn't much for me to do. Honestly, I wasn't good at building stuff, and I didn't think anyone would want me to console them over their losses. I was a stranger to them, and I didn't even know who had died.
Saying 'Everything will be fine. Time heals all wounds.' was nonsense in the first place. Time may help make wounds easier to endure, but would they ever heal—truly heal? I had no idea, but I doubted it. If something were to happen to either Clove or Fern, I'd never truly heal. At least, I didn't think I would, no matter how many years passed.
The same could be said about my family. Even if I hadn't met them for quite a while, I couldn't imagine not meeting them again. I didn't want to think about it, but my mind drifted to them dying. Somehow, I don't know how or why, I wondered how I'd feel if they were to die. Or if they were already dead.
Maybe they were already dead?
No, they're not.
