A longer silence happened when Samir tried to weigh potential words he could use to describe Sam - a Sam that was still alive, at least the time he'd seen him and for just this once, he was indulge in a little thing called hope. And until Erol finally gave out the order to clear his desk, he saw no reason to stop. "Kind." The word flowed out with the smoke he exhaled, only to pause when he had another drag. "Innocent. Private, stubborn. Scared, hopeful. Complicated." Another few drags until nothing but the filter remained and with a sigh, he crushed the cigarette out.
Sometimes, Sam's glaring absence made the world grind to a halt, but on days when his body had betrayed him once more, it was just the fuel he needed. His parents, Jasmine and Sam. They all contributed to a volatile mix of fuel that kept his head held high, ready to attack that cold, nasty world up there. "No." A slight shake of his head. "Didn't seem important."