Her, she could make an angel out of any ghost.
He didn’t have that gift, unfortunately.
He wished to somehow praise the light, but his night vision was so much keener, the details and sharp fragments of truth emerging from the darkness with perfect clarity.
The smallest breathing thing will take but an instant to understand captivity from every angle. This he understood. Even so, he felt like he was trying to run up an escalator while balancing a tray full of drinks, his mind one of those sloshing glasses. Acceptance would make a bed in him, but wouldn’t stay in it, and would be up and down all night long, wandering from room to room, asking questions.
You might be surprised; people do get up in the middle of the night and call their banks.
In the morning he would walk the streets of the city, looking for anyone with some approximation of his blood running like bulls through their heart. And still, and always, he was left with his one true and hopeless ambition: to discover an entirely new country.
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