I was shaken by the results of my actions, and that transitioned into me being upset. And then into me being angry.

A ship from Greater Charleston appeared on the horizon, waving a white flag. Its crew had apparently been lost at sea long past their rations had run out and had been overjoyed to come across any land at all. I stood by as Jerry and the sailors boarded it and seized their weapons. I sulked quietly by myself as we escorted it to port. There was no thankfulness in my heart over the fact that we had arrived just in time for the last rail carriage of the day. I slouched in my seat, arms crossed and teeth gritted. I tried to write. The words I had put to paper were not bad, in retrospect, but it only seemed to have made me angrier.

Our carriage was stopped in the darkness. A boy of no more than fifteen, wielding a gun and trying to rob its occupants. Jerry had stepped out and was in the process of either talking the boy down or preparing to rip off his limbs – I’m not sure which – but my patience was gone and so had my sense and rationality. I side-stepped around Jerry and snatched the weapon from the boy’s hands. “You go home and tell your mother what you did,” I demanded. “I’m keeping this,” I waved the gun about, “for good measure!” I returned to the carriage and slammed the door.

Jerry was not amused. He lectured me for the rest of the ride home on how he was not able to be an effective bodyguard if I was stupid enough to needlessly put myself in danger. The confrontation had gotten out enough of my anger that his words were actually able to get through to me and make me feel ashamed for my behavior.

I should know better than to act in this manner.

Jerry is asleep in my bed right now. I’ve made a nest out of old blankets for myself on the tea room sofa. It is my hope that a good night’s sleep will leave me feeling more rational. I am blowing out my candle and crossing my fingers that the dreams by which I’m visited tonight are kind.