Clyde moved swiftly across the room. He pulled open the closet doors and rummaged inside until he found something soft and comfortable, a loose t-shirt, a warm hoodie, and lounge pants in pale grey, clean and freshly folded. He laid them carefully on the table near the bathroom, smoothing out the creases slowly.
His hand hesitated above the clothes for a second before he turned and retrieved the first aid kit from a nearby drawer. The latch clicked open as he placed it on the table, its contents rattling faintly. Bandages, ointments, gauze, and antiseptics, all neatly arranged and ready.
Clyde changed his riding outfit to something more comfortable. Then he sat down on a chair by the wall, letting everything that had happened sink in. His body leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His fingers clasped together, then unclasped again, restless.
Micah…
