James couldn’t sleep. This, however, certainly wasn’t new. Ever since Nathan’s passing, he had become a changed man. Emma and Charles had become accustomed to his midnight roamings, sitting under the same tree, almost every single night. No one knew what he did there, what he thought, those nights; James preferred it that way.

“Why, why did I let you go?,” James whispered, looking down. “I should have told you not to, I should have spoken up, I should have…”

All was silent. Nothing stirred, as if to reflect upon James’ thoughts. He himself was still; James looked out into the darkness, with no expression.

“There were a lot of things I should have done.”

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