Cyris laughed. “What was it?” he asked no one in particular. “One misplaced laugh from insanity.”
He smiled. He had entered into a farmers market. Produce and people were intermingling while he let his energy creep out and know who he walked amongst. There was a woman who was pregnant but did not know about it, a child who would one day grow up to kill, and man who was letting himself enjoy the moment. He stopped. The smell of new bread filled his nose and the open easiness of a newborn filled his mind. He could see blobs of shapes and the vibration of the sound. The tight wrappings held his soul and the light became black as the infant crept off into sleep. That feeling was replaced with the simple feeling of a hangover. His head throbbed, his mouth was dry, his teeth actually felt. There was an internal fight to try and keep stomach fluids where they belonged, and thoughts of sobriety.
“Coffee,” he said as began to walk to his home. He was happy. Why didn’t he always just accept his fate? he asked himself. It made him feel better than the struggle he always fought. Really. In the end, didn’t he end up taking more power and killing more people? Wouldn’t it just be easier to just be who he was and learn to enjoy it?
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