'Things are different, not dead' Pearl didn't really feel like she was living more like purely existing, white knuckling her way through the motions. The only remedy to her anxiety coming in powdery white substances, thick odorous smokes or soft melodies that were as bitter as they were sweet. She was not the worst off but she had nobody to blame but herself. A self hatred like that if not distracted often enough could one day prove fatal. Despite the brief forray into the blackness concealed at the back of her mind she smiled a small strangely rueful smile and took the cigarette back to her lips puffing away slowly.
As if on time delay her mind registered and replayed his last words making her heart beat as it had when they'd been playing, full of hope and genuine optimism, "We can?" she asked childishly, tentatively as if she suspected he would take back the offer after further reflection. If he meant it she could play all the time. She needed it more than she wanted it.