[Mister Barnes. That doesn't sound like something he owns. Or deserves. He grunts and pauses, leaning back to sit on his heels and breathing out a sigh, resting the heel of his dirt-covered palm on the top of his knee.
He knows he should feel relieved that this isn't just happening to him, but somehow, it doesn't. It feels worse. It feels like the world is going as crazy as he feels and less and less is making sense. He looks up and tries to bury all the turmoil under a layer of stoic, perpetually slightly irritated mask.]
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He knows he should feel relieved that this isn't just happening to him, but somehow, it doesn't. It feels worse. It feels like the world is going as crazy as he feels and less and less is making sense. He looks up and tries to bury all the turmoil under a layer of stoic, perpetually slightly irritated mask.]
What did you do with yours?