“Thank you for today.”
“You did the work.”
“You gave it to me.”
“You needed something real.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I did.”
His gaze lifted.
“Because you knew me before.”
“Yes.”
“What if I stop being him?”
“You already have.”
Pain flickered.
I squeezed his fingers.
“And you are still you.”
“That sounds impossible.”
“It is not.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you sat at that panel and became unbearable about someone else’s wiring within six minutes.”
His mouth curved.
“Fair.”
I lifted my free hand and touched his cheek.
“You are changing. That does not break the thread of who you are.”
“I don’t know who I am some days.”
“I do.”
He looked at me with an ache that made my chest tighten.
“What am I?”
“Brilliant.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Stubborn.”
“Better.”
