Too good to be true.
Today had been too good to be true. Jonothon should have known it from the start, should have listened to his doubts and not put so much hope in the possibility that anything so good could last.
At first, he'd thought that maybe it was something that he'd eaten, twisting at his insides. But then it had started to burn. He'd slipped away from the campfire once it started to quiet down some, and he'd made his way into the preserve.
Away from people. Someplace quiet, where he could wrap his arms around himself, grit his teeth, and focus. Try to keep a grip on it.
He ought to have known, it was always too damn good to be true.
[For them wot know who they are! This is... not going to be pretty.]
- The Preserve, Friday Late Evening