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He probably shouldn't have brought her here, but she asked to come. Asked to see what was left. But walking through a graveyard is one thing; it's that much harder when you were there the day everyone was buried.

He's left her standing a few dozen feet away, staring at one of the glassed-in sheds that house half a dozen figures. She's crying, but he isn't sure what comfort he can give her. He knows what she's thinking. Did I talk to one of these people? That man there, did I tell him to run? He's made some pretty damn stupid mistakes in recent years, but dragging her into this guilt-fest probably takes the cake.

It's still all too recent, nevermind that here and now it happened two thousand years ago. The memory in his head is still clear. The screams; the fear. Just yesterday in their timeline. Just yesterday Pompeii was thriving with the promise of a glorious future. Now it's just ashes and dust and guilt.
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Amy

July 2022

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