"We will have more years with him awake than I have waited as he slept," Laszlo said, his quiet voice brushing against my hair. "But you're right—it does not change the length of the years." Of being alone. Laszlo was the perfect height for me to rest my head on his shoulder as we danced, to hear the slow and steady thump of his heart under my ear. We sighed together, stepped together, spun slowly in the company of shadows together.
