Simultaneously, after Eleven left, Zephyr slumped onto the small yet soft bed—far better than the one in the prison—pressing his arm over his eyes. Outside the cold room, he could clearly hear the faint murmur of the crowd and the shuffle of footsteps, but eventually, everything fell into silence. In that heavy quiet, he muttered to himself.
"What a way to ruin a perfect day."
He chuckled softly, a humorless sound. How dare he even want a special day?
He had been somewhat greedy… so the world had decided to punish him for it.
After a long silence, he finally pushed himself upright and slipped on a shirt.
