Julien asked if he’s all right; for once in his life, Whisper wants to say that he isn’t. “I get nightmares,” Whisper says. “I don’t sleep much.” “Ah. That explains it.” Julien reaches out slowly, as if to pet a nervous cat. Warm fingertips kiss the skin under Whisper’s eye. “You always look so tired.” And for a translucent, painful moment, Whisper feels seen.
