[for greg]

In the day he could forget. He could run and sweat and work and think about other things. It was the nights that got to him. He tried to do it alone, he really did, but in the darkness and moonlight and silence, he laid awake and stared at the ceiling and kept thinking about the future.

He thought about it until it made him itch.

He descended the stairs slowly, quietly, making his way to Greg's room. Maybe he'd actually get some sleep if he wasn't alone.