Not Real Person

The world fuzzes out into static, and his brain is swimming hard to keep up, adding up the equation of teenage grudges and wedding cakes and two a.m. texts and not understanding the variable that got him here, except it's… well, surprisingly, he really doesn't mind. Like, at all. In his head, he tries to cobble a list together in a panic, gets as far as, One, Henry's lips are soft, and short-circuits.