▎┊《  ▓▓▓     ♞ 

          HAND NUMBLY GLIDES to a descent from the support of the doorpost, the olive burnish of his irises dulling into the distance a PETRIFIED gaze has been hurled to. Absently, slowly, his figure wheels, though the motion of his frame does in no way match the deserted ambient sewed into his features. Wordlessly, he proceeds back inside with automatic steps, a hushed murmur pooling from his strained lips,

                                             ❛   …    fuck me.  ❜

          BEFORE HE CEASES his motion and petrifies his footing, following it with a more VOCAL statement, this time aided by the mild whine quaking the release of his speech.

                         ❛    —-   i think i’m gonna have a panic attack.  ❜