Every stroke, every rub of the leather, soaking wet from my body, every time he touched me there, the spark flared bright, and brighter. He dropped the mirror, and Nathaniel caught it before it hit the floor. Vittorio, I said, and I had a face with the name. It seemed to terrify him.
It wasn't just that it hurt. I don't explain the news, I just report it. I hadn't seen it in a mirror, but it had probably looked worse an hour ago. Damian could not help me fight fear, or loneliness, or sorrow, because he carried too much of it inside himself.
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