Hours later, Colin, still hunched over his desk, rubbed his eyes under his glasses. They’d really started to strain. Even to hurt from all the work he’d been putting them through. His back and shoulders ached, too. What he wouldn’t give to have Dexter there right now to rub them for him.
A breath caught in his lungs when he took note of the time. Already after two in the morning and he still wasn’t satisfied with this last piece. He wanted to go over the three that were still here with him, he was still hungry, his body strained with exhaustion. He had no idea how he’d get through this and survive.
The answer? He’s wasn’t. This would be his downfall. Colin was doomed. This wasn’t even a joke anymore. Tears filled his eyes. He dropped his glasses onto the desk and tried to wipe them away. They just kept coming anyway. One by one like bullets to his heart.