"There's not enough breathing room," she replies, falling into a cadence she's long since grown used to, between him and her, between one of her hands and the other. "But there's too much space at the same time. Ordinarily, I'd go to him, ask if I could stop pretending to be a person for a bit, but..."

He's still not back. That's a wound that will scar.

"It's all a mess."