Who: Robin and open What: Some early morning quiet When: Early morning Where: The archery range
The morning was cold, the grass damp with dew under his boots as he walked across the grass to stand ready with his bow. His breath was visible in front of him, and there was the slightest haze of mist still hanging in the early morning air. His thoughts were on none of that though, as he raised his bow and sighted down the arrow to the distant target. Even as he took aim, his thoughts were not on that, either.
All he could think about was seeing Guy join his wife in her rose garden yesterday. And how once that might have angered him, but now he was too apathetic, too numb to care. And what did that make him? That he could think of nothing else but what had been lost, even before his wife's feelings? They had yet to discuss it properly. It seemed they were rarely in the same room. And when they were, their tempers were short. How had this happened, in this place? And even if Petersen was not involved, how did God make such a choice? How did he justify it? He knew he would not find any answers here, but the repetitive, familiar action of knocking and firing arrows was some sort of relief from his troubled thoughts.