❝Our capacity for love increases with each person we cross paths with throughout our lives, and with each moment we spend with those people.❞
~
Growing up, Wallace McAtee wasn't what you'd call a "logical decision-maker".
He did what he pleased whe...
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No matter how old he got, he never got tired of the snow.
The snowflakes were falling down thick this time of year, the Washington mountains covered with them, and he watched as they stuck to the window. The passing greenery outside of the bus's window made the snowflakes appear an evergreen color and it's a color he found that he would always associate with another life.
A few more minutes and the bus stopped and he stood upward. Resting on the seat beside him was a patched-up backpack, a gift from his mom last September for his eighteenth. It had been reminiscent of a gift his grandmother had given his mom for her graduation when she had still been human, back then it had been a blanket, but his mother didn't think he'd like to carry around a blanket. So, a backpack with sewn on patches of all the places they had visited during his childhood was the next best thing; and he cherished it. It always smelt like home, like the three people he was always so hesitant to leave behind.
As he steps down the bus steps onto the concrete of the terminal, he instantly feels his nose lock onto the familiar scent of his Aunt. He sees her before she sees him, naturally, but once she does, he sees her smile bloom.
"Veran!" Aunt Shelby calls out, all wide smiles and wind-blown curly hair.
It's whipping around in the Washington air, but Shelby pays it no mind as she rushes forward, mitten-covered hands gripping at his shoulders to embrace him. As she always does, Aunt Shelby smells fresh, like pure fallen snow and Veran sucks in a deep breath as she holds him.
"Oh gosh you're getting so big," She commends, and once she pulls away, she meets his eyes with her own. "How was the ride? Hopefully not too stressful?"
Stressful is their code word for hungry. Veran laughs gently, then adds, "It was fine. Mom packed me some snacks because of course, she did,"
Shelby nods, then look down at their feet, trying to search for any other bags besides the backpack looped on Veran's shoulder. "Well, you have all of your things? Leah is with the car,"
"Just this," Veran states, motioning towards his backpack with a one-shoulder shrug. "Curly said to pack light. He said you'd kept some of his old clothes and they should fit me,"
