He rubs the back of his wrist across his eyes; pushes some of the loose hair behind his ears, fitfully. Tries to make himself presentable when he's still sniffling every so often and his cheeks feel tight from the drying tears.
"I am here." His voice will crack if he pushes it above a whisper, so he does not try. "I'm sorry, Ninth. Thank you."
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branchandroot
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Date: 2020-09-19 01:04 am (UTC)"I am here." His voice will crack if he pushes it above a whisper, so he does not try. "I'm sorry, Ninth. Thank you."