Her last words pull a scene out of Michael's memory—freezing air and blaring noise he was hardly conscious of, a gift he'd never been given, a question he'd never been asked.
It's the only time I feel like I'm not the only one.
He knows.
Michael hugs Lee a little closer to him, presses his mouth to her forehead.
Sometimes he nearly thinks about the thing he'd started to think about the night he'd fought with Morris. When it's late and dark and Lee is sleeping quietly in his arms and he's alone-but-not-quite-alone, his mind wanders to it. It's bothered him more and more, that thing. That's something he hasn't mentioned, something about him that both of them have been content to leave alone. Lee's past is similar; she doesn't talk about it, and Michael doesn't ask.
“Well now I have to read the Mishnah,” he says after a moment.