He sat alone long after the echo of steps walking away faded into the night, unable to rise, not strong enough to lift even his spoon to stir. The risks were obvious going in, and to have his brain suddenly fail him and tip the night into such bluntness was rather unexpected, but all that had still implied there was hope.
And maybe that expectation had been the illusion all along, he wondered now as he stared into the nothingness at his bow. Was it his timing that had become so stubborn to speak now? Or did it simply prove the time old adage of “No one likes an honest man.”
I hope you all enjoy!