Page 101 of Alien Burn

“There were people who stood still,” she said. “I don't blame them for it. It was horrible, and none of us knew where to go. But you moved. When I remember that day, I remember you moving.”

His expression changed in a way she couldn't quite read.

“I didn't reach everyone.”

“No.” Her throat hurt. “But you reached me.”

He looked down at their hands.

She let him. It was easier to say true things when she didn't have to watch every one land.

“I would rather you came and sat with me on a bad day,” she added, “than waited until you had only good things to say.”

His thumb moved over her fingers.

“That may be an inconvenient offer.”

“I've had inconvenient days myself.”

“I had gathered that.”

He was smiling a little now. She felt an absurd rush of relief at having helped put it there.

“Tivek asked me something before you arrived,” she said. “About home.”

The movement of his thumb stopped.

“You don't have to explain an answer to me.”

“I know.” She drew a breath. “I was thinking I might give you one.”

He settled back against the bench, his attention on her face.

Nothing in his expression hurried her.

“There was a roof I liked,” she said. “When I was young. You could get onto it through a narrow door, if you didn't mind scraping your arm.”

“Did you?”

“Mind? No. Complain? Constantly.”

He smiled.

“The stone stayed warm after dark. Sometimes I'd lie on it until I could hear people going home from the rooms below.”

She could smell it for a moment. Rain striking hot stone. The sweetness of spilled wine. Hear her mother's laugh rising through the open vents.

Sereya's fingers tightened before she could stop them.

Dhomhes didn't ask which house. Which city. Who had been in those rooms.

“What could you see?” he asked.

“Stars. In the right season, meteors.”

“Worth the scraped arm, then.”

“Yes.”