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Old stone

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Old stone
Ten thousand years and you’re still on your own
Don’t you love
Don’t you love me that way?

The fire shot up with sparks and the celebrations started, noisy and colourful as they always were. He was not sure what attracted him so much, but he was there every year, watching from the shadows.

‘You look like an owl, looming here in the darkness with all your feathers ruffled’, said Pinako, appearing out of nowhere with two bottles in her hands. He smiled at her. ‘Here you are, drink and be merry!’

Hohenheim did not answer, but took the bottle and looked at the dancing crowd through the greenish glass. People looked surreal, like frozen in amber. Just for a moment he wished that it could be true. Maybe he would not be so lonely then.

‘Why won’t you join them? My son won’t leave any pretty girl for you unless you hurry up’.

Pinako sounded very drunk, but he knew her well. She was seriously concerned, she always was. Hohenheim just shrugged.

‘I have been through it before’, he stated simply and it was truth. Thousands and thousands of lives, full of love, envy, joy and hate, pulsating in his veins. Having them inside meant living their lives, their memories, their unfulfilled possibilities. He had been through all of it like no one else could.

‘Yeah, whatever’. Pinako raised her emptied bottle like a telescope. ‘And this year you will decline the invitation to dance, too?’ she said, fishing Trisha Elric out of the crowd.

Just for a moment all voices within him went completely still, waiting.