Drabble 1

“Too much” wasn't really a concept that he was familiar with. He had always considered the contemplation of extremes to be a waste of time, because you worked within your own limits, and those would always vary by person. As for his own, he did have some awareness of them, but he had to admit he rarely respected them. It had been his experience that he didn't actually need to do so, because he usually wound up not only perfectly fine by at least his own definition, but also with newly expanded bounds to work in. Generally favorable, and healing was worth spending time on if it had to be, because it wasn't even usually that complicated. Risking everything never bothered him, because he had never lost.

Now, he could reflect that losing didn't truly bother him, either, not by itself. He didn't mind losing all that he had; whether it was of the blood spilling out over the shredded flesh of his arm or certain more meaningful elements of his life, which which stood out clearly to him as he lost his grip on red-stained plastic, the numbers of names on the pen's surface obscured. He did, however, wish that he had been able to do more in the losing of it.