you didn't have to offer your hand

SAMUEL stretch out my life & pick the seams out Evenings had begun to take on one of two routines for Sam in the past while since he had lost his abilities: he would either go for a walk down the beach and look at the ocean, or he would sit and write in his journal with a cup of tea in Zeph's kitchen. He occasionally got up to clean some dishes or stretch his legs (not necessary, true, really an excuse to move because he was bored) but for the most part wrote religiously down his feelings and thoughts as if worried he might lose them one day. It was not a totally unfounded fear; the Voice had taken away memories before. If he continued to be disloyal, he didn't think it impossible she might take his defiance away. Zeph was somewhere or other this evening, he didn't know: while the house sometimes felt disquietingly empty without it's owner, Sam actually found this evening rather peaceful, spending a little more time than usual on making the lines in his journal neat, the letters prettily looping over each other; absorbed in his work, he for once did not pay paranoid attention to the world around and outside the kitchen. take what you like, but close my ears and eyes, watch me stumble over and over.