The training chamber had never felt so quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet. The kind that presses against your ears and makes every breath sound too loud, the sound of pin dropping would cause a distortion in the atmosphere...this kind of quiet was disturbing, it was humbling..it was a reminder of what we had lost and an evidence that we are still yet to get over it....And that reminded us that someone who should be there… isn't.
Ethan's book lay open on the central table, its worn leather cover creased from years of use. No one touched it at first. They all stood around it like it might break if handled too roughly, like his presence still lingered between the pages.
I could feel him, his presence and i wasn't sure if it was PTSD or it was actually real...
