“I’m coming back,” he said. She tore up some more grass, but she felt a little less wobbly having heard him say it. “I don’t want to go, but I do — does that make sense?” he asked her. It did, especially if she thought about how some of her dreamthing’s happy-sadness might have rubbed off on him because they were sitting so close. “It’s just that it’s finally starting. You know. Life.”
