Half Of Bravery Is Perspective.

Come On,'he Says.' I Have Something Else To Show You.

Maybe It's A Little Depressing To Think That My Vision Of A Perfect World Is Actually So Messed Up, But I Think It Means That I Don't Really Understand What 'perfect' Is.

I Forgot My Watch. Minutes Or Hours Later, When The Panic Subsides, That Is What I Most Regret. Not Coming Here In The First Place - That Seemed Like An Obvious Choice - But My Bare Wrist, Which Makes It Impossible For Me To Know How Long I Have Been Sitting In This Room. My Back Aches, Which Is Some Indication, But It Is Not Definite Enough.

I Cross My Arms. "it Was A Two Minute Conversation." "i Don't Think A Smaller Time Frame Makes It Less Unwise." He Furrows His Eyebrows And Touches The Corner Of My Bruised Eye With His Fingertips. My Head Jerks Back, But He Doesn't Take His Hand Away. Instead He Sighs. "you Know, If You Could Just Learn To Attack First, You Might Do Better." "attack First?" I Say. "how Will That Help?" "you're Fast. If You Can Get A Few Good Hits In Before They Know What's Going On, You Could Win." He Shrugs, And His Hand Falls.

No Factions? A World In Which No One Knows Who They Are Or Where They Fit? I Can't Even Fathom It. I Imagine Only Chaos And Isolation.