"No no, yes," she answers, shaking her head. "That was pardon before David."
Not coincidence, exactly, going to the island where they'd kept him comatose for years and knowing nothing about him. More like echoes of a sound that hadn't yet rung out. Strange--really, that's all it was. Something strange before a thousand more strange things happened to them both.
Ruth lets William pull gently at the threads of his story, hesitating over every sentence. She'd be tempted, if it didn't hurt, to peek at the reflections around them and figure out which one Dolores is. Or to reach for the edge of his mind, try to remember what he remembers. But she doesn't really have to--the lonesome affection he has for this woman pours out of him from every angle.
"And sorry, yes, she's gone?" Dead, she thinks. He talks about her like she'll be dust someday. I'm sorry is the sound in her words, or it means to be, as she tips her head like she's looking at him.
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Not coincidence, exactly, going to the island where they'd kept him comatose for years and knowing nothing about him. More like echoes of a sound that hadn't yet rung out. Strange--really, that's all it was. Something strange before a thousand more strange things happened to them both.
Ruth lets William pull gently at the threads of his story, hesitating over every sentence. She'd be tempted, if it didn't hurt, to peek at the reflections around them and figure out which one Dolores is. Or to reach for the edge of his mind, try to remember what he remembers. But she doesn't really have to--the lonesome affection he has for this woman pours out of him from every angle.
"And sorry, yes, she's gone?" Dead, she thinks. He talks about her like she'll be dust someday. I'm sorry is the sound in her words, or it means to be, as she tips her head like she's looking at him.