Zane
Breakfast was no longer just eating. It did not only give her body something. It gave her something else too, something you cannot place on a plate. Rhythm. A kind of ordinary, everyday order that makes a person believe the world is not only commands and blows, but also questions, answers, and the simple fact that the other person truly listens.
Elariana was still sitting across from me, leaning over the bowl. Her spoon no longer clinked as often. Her hand only trembled now and then from the pain running through her shoulder. And in her eyes there was something I had not seen this clearly before. Careful curiosity. Fear was still there, like a shadow at the base of a wall, but it no longer covered everything in front of her.
And as I turned the mug in my hands, I realized I was not
