seen from Ukraine
seen from Italy
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Netherlands
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Netherlands
seen from Tunisia
seen from China
seen from Austria
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Netherlands
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from France
seen from Netherlands
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Chuckling a little, Randall leaned back, continuing to watch the skies as he murmured, “And now, we wait...” He wasn’t sure if Sinclair had really made a wish, or was just humoring him just for his sake, but just the same, he wouldn’t ask what he wished for-he didn’t want his friend’s potential wish, whatever it might be, to not come true, after all.
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“If you don’t mind,” Randall smiled-he knew this place was important to Sinclair, no matter the circumstances of his discovery of it, and he didn’t want to impede on that. However, with his friends’ permission, he’d be more than happy to sleep there in the cool grass tonight-he could grab some pillows and blankets from bed, bundle up, and sleep beneath the stars.
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Randall gave a little shrug at this question: There were many things to do at the Mansion, but in all honesty, he couldn’t think of anything to do at that moment. Looking back to Sinclair, he answered, “I don’t know, lad-is there anything you want to do?”
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Randall swallowed hard and bowed his head before lying back down and gazing up at the night sky, a heavy, cold pit growing in his stomach-it was guilt, and he knew it, and he honestly felt like kicking himself over it. Here he was, trying to save face and encourage his friend to smile, and he’d just made it worse.
Huffing softly, he sank in his blankets, before saying quietly: “I’m sorry...”
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“We’ll just see, Sinny,” he grinned, giving his friend a light nudge in return as he added, “I might outdo you next time-you know what a stubborn ghoulie I can be, after all. I don’t lie down and give in easily.”
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“There’s no need to apologize, lad,” Randall replied, propping himself up on his elbow as he added, “I’m just...I’m sorry life didn’t treat you as kindly as it should’ve.”
It had never seemed fair to Randall that Sinclair had been dealt the short end of the stick at every corner: He was clever, had a wonderful sense of humor, and a good heart within him, and to hear of the circumstances of his life always got under Randall’s skin. Why couldn’t he have had a better, happier life, a life he deserved?
It just wasn’t fair.
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Not about to let Sinclair, he began to prod him back, replying, “Not at all, Sinny, doesn’t bother me at all, Sinny, ol’ pal! Now, tell me, does this annoy you at all, Sinny? Sinny, Sinny, answer me, tell me, lad, those this annoy you? Does this annoy you, Sinny, does it annoy you, friend? Tell me if it does, Sinny, tell me if it annoys you, Sinny. Sinny? Sinny!”
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“That’s alright, lad, we can just have it be you and me,” Randall nodded, adding, “Tell you what, I’ll handle dinner then-I may not be the best cook in the world, but I’m capable of fixing a few dishes. Anything you want in particular, maybe?”
