I left the house as did he, walking in the same direction two steps behind.
The same every day, in sync we moved, not a step out of place.
Like a whirling dance, or a march of death.
You could say the mornings were silent. But the noises flooded my head.
The breathing, heavy and constant. The footsteps on the gravel. The voices in my head.
Stop the noise for one second. I need to clear my head.