His eyes close again, a blink that extends for a long span of heartbeats.
'I taste the sewer. I cannot eat.'
The notion of forcing food down, even lifting a plate, seems too much work.
'And I have seen prisoners, monsieur. Do they explore their cells? Only to look for escape, which I cannot.'
There are no words to put voice to the void in him. He woke this morning to find he could not even think of it. He tried to remember Valjean's final words to words to him, and could only hear the river.
no subject
His eyes close again, a blink that extends for a long span of heartbeats.
'I taste the sewer. I cannot eat.'
The notion of forcing food down, even lifting a plate, seems too much work.
'And I have seen prisoners, monsieur. Do they explore their cells? Only to look for escape, which I cannot.'
There are no words to put voice to the void in him. He woke this morning to find he could not even think of it. He tried to remember Valjean's final words to words to him, and could only hear the river.
The newly-fixed hand balls into a fist.
'Is there a priest?'