Foolish Pride

Munkustrap sat at the edge of the junkyard, green eyes gazing longingly at the social activities going on. Still, he couldn't quite place the blame on that most convenient excuse of his, that amnesia from years past. After his return, he'd isolated himself; it was easier that way, easier on everyone else. Or was it? It was a decision that haunted him.

But that was excusable, too, wasn't it? After all, when one's memories have been taken away from them by no choice of their own, who are they really living as? Munkustrap refused to spend his life as a shadow. At that point, he hadn't known that memories would come flooding back, if he had just given it time. It would've been worth the indignity to wait.

He knew his tragic flaw, pride, and he knew it well, but still he wrestled with it. Letting out another sigh, he stretched out atop the seat of the rocking chair.