Until this moment, that day had been remarkably like yesterday, which had been remarkably like the day before. Bragi wished today was still like yesterday. He was tired of his craving for new things. They didn't have any soul to them anymore. Bragi couldn't get excited. He couldn't care enough to get excited because everything but prose was hollow, and now there was a new thing right in front of him, and he didn't understand it. He didn't understand it, and he wasn't excited to figure it out.
Once, Bragi had wanted her to say those things. He knew she hadn't believed in love, before and he'd thought that was very very sad, because he'd loved her. He'd loved her, and he'd wanted her to actually be able to feel it. She couldn't feel what she didn't believe in. So he'd worked at it. He'd waited. He'd wanted to be the reason she was saying those things. But now she was saying them, and Bragi wasn't the reason. He'd left, and now that he'd left she was saying those things. Bragi only had a very rudimentary sense of time. He didn't know how long she had been chasing him to tell him this. Had she met someone else that fast? Someone who'd done what he couldn't? With Sleipnirlike swiftness? Did she look up, eyes brimming with tears, at her brother's funeral and find what she'd been missing all along? Yesterday he hadn't had any questions. Bragi wished today was still like yesterday.
Now he had questions, but he didn't want the answers to them. Bragi was happy for her. She had what he'd wanted to give her. Bragi just didn't understand why she was there. He didn't understand why she was stroking his hands with her thumbs. He didn't understand why she was holding hands she had to hate. Hands that had cost her more than what she thought her life was worth.
“There are some stories like that” Bragi said. Just because his parents didn't have a story like that together didn't mean they didn't exist. Just because he didn't have a story like that didn't mean they didn't exist. She believed in them. Maybe as soon as he'd left, she'd found that story. Maybe for all of his planning, all he'd had to do was leave. He'd heard that one before. “This one isn't one” Bragi said. His play had a sad ending. No one enjoyed the fruits of their sacrifice.
“I'm sorry” Bragi said. “I don't understand what you want me to do.” He didn't understand what she was really asking him. Only that it didn't have a thing to do with his play. He'd do whatever it was. Then maybe she'd let him go.