[ Gruesome. William's conscious of the mounting silence as he turns it over in his head: the cracks riddling this place, the idea of bone and gristle absorbed into the shifting architecture. The idea of her stumbling on a corpse.
It seems remote, somehow. Who's to say they'd be recognizable. ] That's pretty unforgiving. [ It's not a reproach. He sounds thoughtful, a question buried in there somewhere. He wonders where she's from, where a broken rule means you're made an example of.
It comes down to—wherever they are, he can't believe it wants them dead. Capricious, yes. Murderous, no. But he's not about to say that to her. ] Where are you right now?
no subject
It seems remote, somehow. Who's to say they'd be recognizable. ] That's pretty unforgiving. [ It's not a reproach. He sounds thoughtful, a question buried in there somewhere. He wonders where she's from, where a broken rule means you're made an example of.
It comes down to—wherever they are, he can't believe it wants them dead. Capricious, yes. Murderous, no. But he's not about to say that to her. ] Where are you right now?