there's light at the edge of the darkness
The steady rhythmic work of weaving steadied Loren’s unsettled mind. It gave him something to focus on other than the images of the fateful Fiat Lux that repeated over and over again whenever he wasn’t doing something. His anger, cold and unexpected as it had been, faded into an exhausted guilt, one he didn’t bother hiding from Amalia.
When she picked up her own straw, he didn't say or do anything, or react, even, just continued on with his own basket. However, his eyes caught the sheen of sweat on her brow. Pausing, he held the strip that he'd already woven in place. Creating a damp and cool cloth, he held it out to her. "I'm sorry." The words were very quiet, almost defeated.
When she picked up her own straw, he didn't say or do anything, or react, even, just continued on with his own basket. However, his eyes caught the sheen of sweat on her brow. Pausing, he held the strip that he'd already woven in place. Creating a damp and cool cloth, he held it out to her. "I'm sorry." The words were very quiet, almost defeated.
loren
