The cups swallowed the table and it suddenly occurred to him that he was wasting his time. It was busy work and there was nothing worse than busy work. Like those endless forms and tiny details that stuck in someone's craw that just made his life tiresome. They were just cups but for whatever reason, they made him irrationally angry. He smacked the cups down on the table and muttered, "This is fine, just... leave it," He gently rubbed his fingers on the bridge of his nose as a slight ache swelled behind his eyes. He needed to get away from everyone. Oscar could feel them all around with their sorrow and confusion. Their energies were so lost and wide, bumping into one another. Some might find comfort in a shared loss but not him. He was a preservationist. He didn't like to lose.
Oscar walked away without so much a word to anyone else. He left the town square and all its noise and clutter behind. Maybe this was it. Maybe he was done. He had spent too much of his life here, working behind the scenes. Maybe it was time for someone else to come along. Maybe the death of the mayor was a sign. With a heavy sigh, he stuck his hands in his pocket and let his feet carry him somewhere. His thoughts weighed him down, made him blind to everything around him. As he turned a corner, he came to the conclusion that he should leave, pack up, start over somewhere new. And then he saw what street he was on. Oh shit...
Oscar had betrayed himself. The house tucked away down the street belonged to Rimara's family. He stopped in his tracks as if shot. No, she wouldn't be there... What the hell am I thinking? Of course she'll be there. He took a hesitant step forward and when he found that he didn't fall through the cracks of the earth, he slowly made his way towards the house. He thought of stopping by under the pretense of checking in on her, like a good friend or neighbor. He could just knock on the door and see her there. He nearly laughed at himself. He'd take one look at her blue eyes flashing with innocence and sweetness, traits that never belonged to him, and be done for. It was best to leave things be. Best for him. Best for her. With a breath of fresh air, the ache in his head left him but was replaced by another. He missed her. It was all his damn fault for getting too close. His pace quickened as he passed her house. He averted her eyes in fear that he'd spy on her through the window. He needed to clear his head and get her out of there. But the problem was, the whole damn town reminded him of her. Maybe it was best to leave...