tenth. text. (and if you leave me, rest assured it would kill me.)
[He's put off doing this notification as long as he can, hoping against hope that she'll turn up again, that her physical absence and alias's disappearance from the directory are mistakes, that there is another explanation waiting to be found. But it's been three long days, and no sign of her. She has friends, and they probably deserve to know, too.]
Sharon's gone.
[Yes, he's upset. No, he doesn't want to talk about it.]
I'm taking over maintenance of her emergency supply cache network, but I could use some help.
[Grieving? What grieving, there's work to be done.]
Sharon's gone.
[Yes, he's upset. No, he doesn't want to talk about it.]
I'm taking over maintenance of her emergency supply cache network, but I could use some help.
[Grieving? What grieving, there's work to be done.]
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It's fine. There's nothing to be done about it.
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I guess not? Doesn't mean she won't be missed.
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Then. A part of her will never really go away.
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You're making it sound like she's dead. She's not.
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No, you're right. She could come back. You never know.
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[It's only partly true; the selfish part of him, the part that feels ripped in half without her, that part very much wishes for her to return to him.]
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You mentioned caches. What are those and what needs to be done to help?
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