Ellie nodded against David's arm, watching their shadows in the light: oddly distorted, tall like walking trees.
If you hear something so much, you start to believe it. "A defining feature of human psychology," she murmured.
It must be nice to believe in things. Ellie often wondered what it was like -- to really believe in something, not because it was probably true, or because it was logical, or because it abided by the laws of physics. Just to believe.
"I don't know what happened to my father," she added, smiling absently. "Or my mother. They were traveling when everything... Happened. The Outbreak. They couldn't get back into New York, so... They said goodbye to me over the phone. Now I'm... Starting to forget, I think. I don't have any photographs." This was something that hadn't occurred to her until just now, actually. Eloise was not especially sentimental, even when it came to family members. Still she sighed now, running idle fingers along David's knuckles. "...My father was named Russell. My mother was Claudine. They both would have liked you, probably. You're a lot nicer than any of the friends I brought home."
David was looking at her now. Ellie smiled again, now more brightly, and lifted her eyebrows at him. "More...? Hmm. I don't know very much of it. There were bones, though. My grandparents renovated the kitchen and found two skeletons. But all the things... Haunting things? Didn't stop, really. Or so goes the ending of the novel."
"Stories..." She trailed off, remembering. "I should have written them down. I always thought my dad was... Exaggerating. Silly. He liked trying to frighten me." Ellie shook her head. "Then when I was in high school he was famous, a little. For a series he wrote. That was sort of interesting."