[He's sitting in the kitchen watching his mother sit up like nothing's happened. He's seeing her broken at the bottom of the stairs and feeling..happy? But he can't be happy if someone's dead, it's not. Death is not supposed to work like this.
Still barely keeping to the present and shutting his eyes as if to shut out the blood and the misery, the Piemaker's arm stretches out for a kitchen chair. He pulls it over, drops into it, and huddles there]
I think I just need to, um. To.
[To watch, as the timer in the kitchen goes off and across the street, his neighbor collapses in much the same way as his mother did. He's dead now; it's easy to tell even from that distance. Life for life; his mother, for Chuck's dad.]
[spam]
Still barely keeping to the present and shutting his eyes as if to shut out the blood and the misery, the Piemaker's arm stretches out for a kitchen chair. He pulls it over, drops into it, and huddles there]
I think I just need to, um. To.
[To watch, as the timer in the kitchen goes off and across the street, his neighbor collapses in much the same way as his mother did. He's dead now; it's easy to tell even from that distance. Life for life; his mother, for Chuck's dad.]