[Three months felt like forever and like no time at all. This feels like the close of a dream, the good and the bad. Nothing at all could happen. Everything could happen. That's life and death; this is the strange peace you make with it, wishing to wish for nothing more.
Erika doesn't let herself think about home. She thinks about one kind of silence, and two kinds of silence, and the right-here-right-now importance of Hajime's presence. She stays awake until he's asleep or still enough to pass for it, puts her hand on his arm and runs her thumb back and forth and back and forth and back and forth.
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Erika doesn't let herself think about home. She thinks about one kind of silence, and two kinds of silence, and the right-here-right-now importance of Hajime's presence. She stays awake until he's asleep or still enough to pass for it, puts her hand on his arm and runs her thumb back and forth and back and forth and back and forth.
(Something for both of them to count. It helps.)]