Us. Our story.

The coffee shop was crowded. The chatter of the patrons sounded like a cacophony of birds gathered at a marsh. Schu was just finishing his coffee. He tapped the tiny spoon on the side of the bone white cup and let the voices flood in. So many were lost and in pain it was like drowning in honey. He could drown and get lost himself, except he was already lost. He'd been a shiny toy, picked up and played with, then put on a shelf. For YEARS. Without his markers, without Crawford or Aya, Schu didn't know who he was. He was already drowning. Schu pushed outward, pushing the vague, hopeless discontent of some of the people around him into anger. Several arguments erupted simultaneously. But if he was drowning, he was going to enjoy it. If he was going down, he wasn't going down alone.

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