HENRY
I was waiting for something extraordinary
but as the years wasted on...
but as the years wasted on...
When Sam offered to help him make his stories into books, Henry paused uncertainly. His writings were less like stories and more like poetry. He had pages and pages of it, tucked away in his room back on the farm. For reasons that others may not have understood, he was petrified of letting anyone else read his work. Sam's interest was kind and Henry was incredibly tempted to accept the offer but, instinctively, he wanted to reject it. His expression fell a little.
"I don't know..." he replied, averting his gaze down to what Sam was doing again. With a reassuring smile, he added, "They're all really bad, anyway."
"I've never been there, no," Henry answered, eyes stretching a little wider at the thought that Sam had gone to such a place, "but I've heard some things about it that make me glad I haven't. Why did you go to the Climb, of all places?"
"I don't know..." he replied, averting his gaze down to what Sam was doing again. With a reassuring smile, he added, "They're all really bad, anyway."
"I've never been there, no," Henry answered, eyes stretching a little wider at the thought that Sam had gone to such a place, "but I've heard some things about it that make me glad I haven't. Why did you go to the Climb, of all places?"
nothing ever did
unless I caused it
unless I caused it
