“I don’t believe I should want you like I do either, Renna.” “But you do,” she murmurs, her eyes snapping back to mine. Her face is elaborately painted with silver moonlight and black shadows, and in looking at her eyes I feel something I haven’t seen for a long time; empathy. “But I do.” “I should go.” “You should go,” I agree. She doesn’t move. Neither do I.
