My fingers stilled on the desk's surface. Outside, the rain had softened to a murmur, its earlier violence spent. Like the storm, my frantic need to control every outcome was passing.
The inkwell's reflection showed a man no longer at war with the world's design. Just someone learning his place within it.
This was the true calling of a background character: not passive observation nor compulsive meddling, but the discernment to know when to sweep in and when to let the dust settle.
I chuckled darkly at the realization.
Even self-awareness, it seemed, could become its own kind of blindness. I'd been on the right path all along - just starting to stray from its true purpose.
But the downpour had washed my vision clear before I wandered too far astray.
"Hmm..."
