“I was hoping I was special.” It’s facetious, of course, but sometimes my subconscious desperately wants to be the exception. Erica laughs. “You’re not. I’m not, either. And isn’t that the most comforting thing in the world?” I’m not sure it is. It’s no warm blanket or cup of coffee or the feeling of Will’s hand on my lower back, that’s for sure. But maybe I can get there.
