Here came her worthless words. “I do not know what you call it. The thing that is not flesh or bone or organs. In the panic, I needed to make sure the greater thing was safe. The demonic laughs you make at things that are not jokes. The way you ask to touch me without words. The pleasure I get from riding next to you. The talking that I mind less than talking to others. The willingness to be harmed myself before letting you be harmed. You feeding me soup by the spoonful because I cannot raise a hand. What do you call that thing that I had to save? I had to save it. I had to save us. You are my
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