With some minutes left in this room, John let himself worry about an uncertainness he had been feeling, as he let himself remain in silence. It shouldn’t be taking too long.
Once there was silence, worry made its way into his mind. His health strayed further from perfect during the last few months, and he wasn’t sure if it would surprise him at any point. He had gotten more tired compared to last year, and recently, he had shown some hay fever symptoms—which was something that only happened when his overall health had gotten weaker. Aside from that, a certain thing about his old dream worried him—he felt as if he should’ve remembered it, but no, it was his little sister who reminded him of it. And right now, it’s been weighing inside his mind.
When John tried to think of his own past, he cringed. His mind caught a glimpse of his naive past, and he quickly shook it off—as if something about his past truly shook him to the core. But it’s not like he had been through a life-changing accident, so, why should he worry? He couldn’t tell when exactly did he change, but he knew he was a completely different person from back then.
As his mind strayed where he didn’t wait to revisit right now, he remembered to check the time—he only had a very few minutes left. So he went through all the spell scrolls, magic scrolls, magic weapons, and other tools—just to make sure they were there.
Once his time was up here, he ought to continue today’s work—and not worry anymore.
Once today’s auction came to a close, John remained in the room as he watched the buyers leave to their own destinations. And John, too, should head off to wrap things up for today’s work. As he took his first step outside, someone grabbed him by the arm.
It was Zoey, his fellow auctioneer. She’s probably overwhelmed by today’s work, with how her expression spelled worry. “We need to talk.”
“Is everything alright? You’ve been acting strange today.”
“Strange?” Shit. Did John’s exhaustion give away that much?
“You can talk to me, you know. You’ve helped me a lot, so…”
“I’m doing alright, don’t worry.”
“You sure? You aren’t that good at hiding it.” Zoey’s grip on his arm had gotten stronger.
“You aren’t that good either.” John yanked her arm off him. “You could’ve ripped my arm like that, you know. Was something else bothering you?”
“Yeah.” Straightforward and honest. “But at least, I could wait until the weekend—so I can finally visit her after what? Months?”
“Oh, a student. Remember that Tanya I told you about?”
“Mhm. I remember her.”
As Zoey continued on about her student, a certain faintness had caught up to him—he should leave. Right now. “Hey, Zoey. I’ll be heading—”
“Wait, hold on!” Zoey grabbed his arm again, as he turned away. “You… You don’t feel well, right? Should we get to that exit? There’s some—”
John was so close to uttering the phrase “This is none of your business.” His problems were his, and his alone. Zoey shouldn’t be worrying herself like this.
- Calmly tell Zoey off, and leave.
- Get her arm off him, and leave.
- Let Zoey drag him away to another exit.
I write the protagonists with something that’s clearly up in their head, cry about life, sleep, and repeat