Up and away, seas of green turning waxy under everything. There isn't even smoke behind us. Just an empty acreage, wonder how long it'll take people to notice a rural random building having disappeared. 

I mean it's friday so a few days before missed work raises up any flags, ideally.

Not like anyone can do anything about it or pick a fight with me in actual earnest. But the series finale of De la Cruz is this weekend and news coverage will knock it off the air if things get loud. But, no need to panic the public about a group of nobodies hanging out nowhere.

At least Laeh is having a good time swinging about. Arms stretched feeling that humid draft that follows rain storms like these.

I think this is that same peace, the one we all had when there wasn’t anything left in us too. When we realized the time had come to sleep.

to just relax, breathe, look out and be nothing other than less.

That's what dying meant back then, over there.

But here, this peace means potential; room to think, breath, and grow.

The fact that death had even been a part of the matter was just like the crimes. Committed by others around her at her detriment.

But not this part, it had just been a steady figure looking at the situation. And saying damn the context, the action does not stand.

Living brings true peace, huh.

I mean, I was aware on some levels. A lot of levels.

Mainly when drilling into my bones. That life is precious and opting out feels the complete opposite of a solution.

But, I don't know.

I don't think the important parts believed it, not until seeing the difference of narrative and options eclipsing the peace.

Or maybe that's just the reality of being a bystander, being the witness.

Looking at Leah happy, jumping around the park and giggling madly.

For her, the one living each day. Nothing eclipses that she'll never have to be scared again.

Not even getting to grow up.