“Of course God wants this. That’s why we can’t ignore it.” Michael looks up at her, somber and sincere, full of conviction. Other people might have trouble taking him seriously considering how pale and exhausted and rumpled and crazy and red-eyed he looks, but Michael doesn’t worry about his appearance even when he should—and with Lee there’s no point.
Her hand in his hair feels so good. His head is pounding. He tries to blink some of the ache away, but it doesn’t work very well. At least now that he’s lying down his dizziness has abated somewhat and he doesn’t have to worry about falling. It would be nice if he could change out of his work clothes, but that would require sitting up and that seems much too difficult at the moment.
“Sometimes it feels like I knew you before I met you,” he murmurs as she pets him. “Sometimes I think I’m about to remember something, but I never can. I dream about you all the time, in a different place, some other world. What do you think that means?”