Leander, much to his shame, had gotten back three of his lost kilograms. He stared down at the scales with despair. He had worked hard to lose the weight, and now, because of his hospital stay, most of it was back.
With a bowed head, he got off the scales and went to sit on the bed. His room in the inn had no personal touches in it, despite him having lived in it for the past two months.
The walls were a Spartan white color, the furniture was faded. The room gave out the same kind of feeling that was within himself.
Desolation and desperation.
Leander's eyes found the ball Morris had given him and the book in which he dried three of the forget-me-nots that Dorian had given him. They had believed in him, and he had let them down.
They had training later that day, with them going to the faucet before that. But Leander was had lost all hope.