Re: Third Class ; Dining
He smiled at her acceptance, that they could talk after, after, whenever that might happen to be. He didn't hold much faith in tomorrows, they were far away things and you never really reached them. Yesterday was always in the past, tomorrow always in the future, leaving only today, only now, and that was the only thing he could hold onto.
"I don't believe there is a place that's perfect," he said after a moment of thought. "There might be a place that comes close, but it's never perfect. Not really. Something always tarnishes the surface, dulls the gleam. He was quiet again, thumb running over her hand where they held on tight to one another, and he wondered if he might ever reach a place that was close. It seemed so far away to the boy who remembered so little about who he was and what he was, and it just didn't seem possible. Optimism had never been his friend, not here, not there.
Her question drew him out of his thoughts, pulling him up out of the murk he had fallen down into, and for a long moment, he simply looked at her. "I don't know who I am," he said softly, confessing. "But it's possible that I'm not good. The person I am before this. The person I was." It was confusing, knowing there was something else out there that he could not name or put a label to, but knowing it existed nonetheless.