Call for help

So there he was, a freshly diagnosed weakling with a new questline. 

'Work out. My training arc begins.'

A slow, determined grin spread across his face, the kind of look that usually precedes a montage of push-ups and jogging set to an inspiring J-rock theme. 

His feet knew the way home, the short, direct route of a boy who just wanted to get back to his cave. But his brain? His brain made a different call, a detour down streets he had no business being on.

'Just... a quick look. To make sure.'

To make sure of what, exactly? That the house was still standing? That it hadn't been swallowed by a sinkhole of pure misery? 

He turned the corner, and there it was. Thea's street. A quiet, forgotten little artery of the city where the houses looked tired and the lawns had given up trying. He walked slowly, his eyes scanning for that specific shade of peeling blue paint.