That's right, [As if he should have known, her answer a prompt in some kind of test in which he proves to himself that this was real, not a dream he falls into from time to time and forgets on waking. Each time he finds himself back here again he softly questions if he ever really wakes at all.
He starts towards the television, kneeling next to the stereo shelf and running his thumb along the pile of her CDs. Missing the names with the turn of his head back toward her.]
Too warm for tea. How about a glass of something...?
[The lilt at the end turning statement to question isn't that he doubts she'd have wine in the house. He's just not sure, after last time, she'd give it to him.]
it seems that all my bridges have been burned, you say that's just how this grace thing works
He starts towards the television, kneeling next to the stereo shelf and running his thumb along the pile of her CDs. Missing the names with the turn of his head back toward her.]
Too warm for tea. How about a glass of something...?
[The lilt at the end turning statement to question isn't that he doubts she'd have wine in the house. He's just not sure, after last time, she'd give it to him.]