#* one shot.

[hostessmuffet-blog]

[expionagearchive-blog]

              his greatest skill had become running.               adapting.               becoming.               the skin that coated bone & muscle? he wondered some days if it was his own or if he was some entity living outside himself, watching as he fell into another life. another lie. fingers rocked in a wave to curl into his palm -- was their callous state his doing or some other someone he’d become? it was hard to know what was real about himself & what was some new convincing lie he’d molded himself into.               yet, no matter what he saw in his reflection now? only one image fluttered to the surface, a ghost he could never be. the one thing, the one person he’d ever been, that felt real. that felt right.               but jacob phelps, or whoever he truly was, would never be tom keen.               it was just as much an illusion to him as it had been to elizabeth, he’d convinced himself that he was exactly that: a bookish teacher with a gentle smile & a heart to match. but... a sigh raked through his lungs like smoke as he cast his gaze aside from the mirror; the mirror that held the image of a man who had no idea who he was.               one thing did come to mind as much as he tried to press it into the depths: nebraska.