Elian’spenpaused.
Fourunedications—thiswasn’tsomethingyoudiscoveredfromtakingedieowice.Heturnedhishead,andsuddenly,hefeltastrangecuriosityaboutthechildhoodofthisundercssmanwhoalwaysseemedperfectlyarmored.
“Howmanytimeswereyouawalkingmediebottleasakidtofigureoutyou’reallergictofourraredrugs?”
“Mm…IgotsickalotwhenIwaslittle…”Withthefeverlherdefeoalmostnothing,Cradidn’thavethestrengthtofilteroutprivatequestions.Sheansweredlikeshewashalf-dreaming.“Alotofeariions…alwaysinightmyearswouldhurtinside…Icouldoakingantibiotics…”
Eariions?
Elianfroze.
Foramusi—especiallyabassistsosensitivetopitdfrequency—repeatedmiddle-eariionsinchildhoodwerelikeburyingexplosivesuhefoundationofhearing.Thisgirlwhocouldnowcatchchordrootswithprecision…hadgrownupinsiderecurringearpain?
Hefihestline,cappedthepen,aheclipboardaside.Hisgazedriftedagain—untrolled—toCra’srighthandhanginglimpbyherside.
There,onthesideofherthumb,aringofbreathabletapehadturnedfaintlyyellow.Theedgehadpeeledup,revealihiewcallusbeh.Worse—atthecallus’sedge,darkredtracesremained:cracksfromoverstrikirings,scabbedover,splitagain,scabbedagain.
Twoweeks.
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