I look ahead and reply, “You walk around with knives and use them like it’s your second nature. You started following me for a reason, right? That’s probably it. You want to know what it’s like for me.”
“I do,” he says and continues staring at me. “I want to know everything. I need to understand so I can forgive myself.”
“You won’t,” I explain to him as the aircraft comes to cruise over a tall, black building that’s illuminated by beams of purple, neon lights that line its exterior. At its top, there’s a landing station replete with pod-shaped vessels like our own that are all set below a glowing sign, which reads: “Black Knights Inn.”
“Is that all you can say to me?” he asks as I feel the ship begin to lower itself.
I shake my head. “No. It’s hard to know how to respond when someone a
