❛   I’m   remembering   things.   The only difference is now I have   proof.   ❜

            HER   VOICE   CARRIES   on the hiss of a whisper   ;   the setting is familiar,   but faint,   like the ache of an old bruise.   Nothing ever feels quite   RIGHT   anymore,   but she grounds herself in the moment,   in the feel of the cool,   warped   metal between her fingers.   She presses his palm   flat   above her hip,   where the bullet had STRUCK,   where his blade had   BIT,   squeezing his fingers in hers so tightly it   aches. 

            She holds the bullet between them like it,   in and of itself,   is an   answer.