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The Vigil

Havermouth, Five Years Before

Rhett pulled his hair back and tied it into a ponytail at the back of his head. His black shirt felt stiff against the bulge of bicep as he tightened the hair-tie – he’d picked one that had been freshly returned from the dry-cleaner and was still pressed into crisp seams. It was new, the buttonholes still tight, and he couldn’t remember buying it, so assumed that it was one that his mother had bought for him.

Lora had good taste, he thought as he admired the subtle pattern sewn into the fabric. He’d bet that it was bought from his favorite alternative clothing brand, too, because amongst the embroidered swirls of leaves and vines were hidden subtle skulls and crossbones – all in black thread, so that the detail didn’t detract from the severe and simple fitted lines of the shirt.

He sighed, thinking of his mother. He’d turned his phone on as he’d gotten dressed, to a dozen messages from his dad, and knew that Phillip was back in Havermouth. Lora would be h
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