Geoff had nothing. Nothing except his robes, necklace, and pocket knife. His backpack was still at his apartment--or, what was his apartment. He didn't want to go back. Even to grab his possessions. He was back to square one, living without a home and nothing to his name, as far as he was concerned. It didn't really matter. It was fun while it lasted, but he was already on his way back down the ditch.
He was back where he was before. But it was a bit different now. He had the sharpness of serious physical injuries added into the mix, and like hell he was going to try seeing a doctor now. Back then, most of his injuries were just cuts and bruises and twisted ankles. He could easily tolerate those injuries. But now he could barely breathe without it hurting bad. He didn't want to move from this spot, for he had gotten used to the position and leaving it would just mean more of a struggle to relax again.
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