The Park, Monday Late Morning

In previous years, Atton had let this whole 'Memorial Day' holiday pass him by; he'd been focused on his cover, and on keeping the past firmly under wraps, not trotting it out so he could stare at his own navel over somebody else's holiday.

This year was different, and not just because he'd woken up in a cold sweat this morning as the Mandalorian Wars poured back into his brain. The first thing to come up on the television that morning had been Memorial Day-related, which had further worsened his already maudlin mood, and by the time his class was over, he was in a thoroughly melancholy headspace.

He went for a stroll around town, but the aimless of it got to him. Eventually, he settled down on a bench in the park with a pack of pazaak cards-- largely as a visual aide, because he could play in his head just fine-- and a sandwich. He looked up only occasionally, to glare at whatever duck or flamingo had the balls to come in close.

His thoughts kept wandering back to the past, in spite of his better efforts. Probably best just to sit here and soak in it for a while, get it out of his system.

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