Recovery And The Return Of Ethan Hart - Plot & Excerpts
No, not quite. And is it really true I’m over you? But all the same. I’m certainly not going to mourn you, not any longer. We’ll make out, Thomas and I. And in a way it’ll be a comfort just to know that somewhere over there you’re still around, it isn’t quite as though you’re dead. (One day, even, when he’s old enough, Thomas may begin to feel curious, curious enough to want to come in search, and then the two of you could possibly become close…well, anyway, let’s hope!) But I only wish I had a photograph. I’m so afraid I’ll start to forget what you look like. And a faceless blur, I feel, wouldn’t be of great comfort. Oh, what the hell…who needs comfort? We’ll be okay. We’ll be okay, won’t we, Tom? The human race hasn’t survived this long by whining and feeling sorry for itself. Agreed, my love? I often talk to him like this. I don’t mean to Matt, I mean to the baby inside me: the baby who sometimes kicks quite hard now and who is very much a presence; at five months I have grown large—gratifyingly so.
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