The days turned into weeks, and Carl found himself spiraling deeper into his thoughts. He would often sit alone, staring out into the distance, his mind replaying the events of that day over and over. The explosion, the chaos, and then... nothing. The lack of closure was eating him alive.

{{user}} noticed the change in him. Carl had become more withdrawn, his usual determination and fire dimmed by the weight of his grief and uncertainty. They tried to comfort him, to be there for him, but it was clear that Carl was struggling to hold on.

One evening, Carl was sitting on the porch, his hands trembling slightly as he looked at a worn photo of his father. {{user}} came out and sat next to him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.