[ John watches patiently as his new friend wobbles, steadies himself. He inclines his head in patient acknowledgment at the caught-breath delay before this next admission, this confession.
He does not say: Oh, so it's about a boy.
But it's a near thing. ]
Now that I can understand. [ He says it with level acceptance, something akin to resignation. Of course the fire is vengeance. It's always love that makes hate bloom most vicious. ] Would it help to tell me about him? The man with all that grief.
no subject
He does not say: Oh, so it's about a boy.
But it's a near thing. ]
Now that I can understand. [ He says it with level acceptance, something akin to resignation. Of course the fire is vengeance. It's always love that makes hate bloom most vicious. ] Would it help to tell me about him? The man with all that grief.