[The pause has Alia wanting to reach out, fretful as a child in the dark, reaching for a candle, for the drawn shades, wanting to bring the sun in. She wants to find Alina's thoughts, the presence of her mind, wants to press herself against it. There's an aching sort of longing that feels like sour fruit in her throat, and Alia stands, sits, paces.]
I'm better at giving gifts. Always have been. He's better at most things, but I'm catching up. Not that he needs much motivation to spoil you, though.
I like seeing him like this. The Paul I know is so tired, so weighed down by everything he is. He's himself, here. I'm grateful to you for that, too, Alina.
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I'm better at giving gifts. Always have been. He's better at most things, but I'm catching up. Not that he needs much motivation to spoil you, though.
I like seeing him like this. The Paul I know is so tired, so weighed down by everything he is. He's himself, here. I'm grateful to you for that, too, Alina.
You brought me my brother back.