[It's uncanny, how song finds them when other words would not. He listens, but doesn't speak. He doesn't move to get another drink, either. Just grips his hands tight against his mug and wills himself to think about anything but the envelope he'd held in his hands.
And then a song. Out of place compared to Stephen's, but fitting all the same. It is his song, something he'd sung when he was at his most desperate.]
So many hopes were lost here Along the way From morning to night
no subject
And then a song. Out of place compared to Stephen's, but fitting all the same. It is his song, something he'd sung when he was at his most desperate.]
So many hopes were lost here
Along the way
From morning to night