“Because I don’t have an image of your looks, and I don’t need it. I’ll never need it.” “I’m not sure I follow—” “Just listen,” he interrupts I seal my lips, waiting for him to explain. “I know your soul, Rip. I know your voice. Your scent. Your breathing patterns. Your intonations. I have the incredible privilege of seeing intimate, invisible, even unconscious details about you. I’ll never have to share that privilege.”
