I give up on trying to remember, instead listening to Alice’s mind. She falls into my arms and tells me it’s been too long. I don’t say anything. Her embarrassment is helping me keep my glamour together. She gets up again, though, muttering something to herself. I smile at her, my little crooked smile. It’s broken and torn at the edges, but it’s the same old smile. I pull her back and rest her head on my chest. She shifts and listens to the silence within my constructed ribcage.
‘Heartless old bastard,’ she laughs. I roll my eyes, though she can’t see and find myself wondering what her story is. I wrap my arms around her; feel her relax into me as I ask:
‘What about you? When did you die... for the first time, of course.’