We sit in silence for the longest time. This moment reminds me of another, when she was weary and frightened and in a strange land—and she didn’t know whether to trust me then, either. I rise from the cot to root around on Noah’s workbench until I find a battered deck of cards, then return to sit opposite Harper. I drag a small table between us, then shuffle. “Like old times,” she says, and her voice breaks again. “Like old times,” I agree.
not sure if my emotions can handle this one tbh
