The past day had been a blur. Luke wasn't sure when he'd realized that something might be wrong -- that his uncle was missing, possibly dead -- but it had seemed that in one moment everything turned upside down. He didn't know what to do with it. Nor himself. Or with anything, honestly.
As in most times of stress, any and everything Luke felt was magnified tenfold, and yet he felt so separate from everything. He was fully aware of how much he'd been snapping at everyone, but couldn't seem to stop himself. It wasn't helping anything to be so emotional, but he couldn't help it. Could anyone?
Uncle B looked so bad.
So, so bad.
And everything sucked.
Everything.
Luke had hoped that this morning would be easier, but it wasn't. He'd half-forgotten telling George to come today; the hand on his shoulder surprised him, but his reaction to the surprise was to turn suddenly and wrap his arms around her. No good morning, because it wasn't one. No words at all.