“I wonder,” she said. “About what?” “What makes a man?” Her face was covered in shadow. Her hand never left my hair. “If all he knows is stripped away, what is it that remains?” “I don’t know.” “I didn’t either until we found you again. I think I know the answer now. Would you like to hear it?” “Yes.” Almost more than anything. She said, “What remains is a broken heart shattered like so much glass. Pieces are missing, and the ones that are left don’t fit like they used to. But still it beats, because no matter what is taken away, no matter what is lost, it needs to continue. To survive. You
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