No. [ Agreement. ] In the middle of it is the feeling of wishing desperately to be the needle and thread, and finding myself only ever what makes the rents such repair is needed for.

[ This to the floor: ] All last night I have spent in telling myself that my travel now is kindness, a space to breathe so I do not choke him like a clinging vine. And all night I have replied with unstinting venom that all I do is leave.

[ Finally she reaches to take the offered hand, although it is with a lady's light genteel touch rather than a clasp, looking back up at him as she does. ]

You have been always close, when you are together. Will you tell me?

[ A breath, and a pained smile. ]

If he is happier, when I am gone.