Haunted By Laughters Edge and the Empty Microp

The room was roaring while he was quietly breaking. Every laugh felt like proof he was still useful, still worth keeping around. They clung to his timing like a lifeline, begging him to be fine so they didn’t have to face their own fractures. Later, they watched the footage back, and the space between his words suddenly felt unbearable. Every shaky inhale, every glance at the floor, every smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes became a confession they had ignored. The show they swore was flawless began to look like a distress signal they never answe… Continues…