There were times like this when Eric wished he carried a keepsake, a chain locker, a locket, even a tiny photo frame tucked into his coat.
Something small, something personal, anything at all that could fit in the corner of a family portrait and remind him of what mattered most.
He only now realised the value of having something like that, especially in moments like this? Moments where death loomed like a shadow overhead, threatening to fall at any second, a glance at a photo of his two kids would have anchored him, reminded him why he fought, why he couldn't afford to fall.
If he had something like that, he would've taken it out now, right before diving headlong into a battle that might end him, a battle where the scales of fate would measure whether he lived or died.
