[ Her words sound as if they've been plucked from some storybook, and it is with some wonderment that he tells himself (that he knows) that she means each word from the bottom of her heart. Love on its own is a miracle. That she should love him is another wonder altogether. The smile that he wears — broad and unfettered — says as much. (I owe you, he thinks. I owe you so much.) ]
And my thanks to you—
[ A pause. (He fears his voice might break.) ]
—for giving me my life back.
[ It's a simple song, by most means. A few words strung together. But they mean the world to a man like him, to someone who, for a very long time, had thrown himself body and soul into what he believed to be a greater endeavor in order to forget his own hurt. In her embrace, he breathes for the first time. ]
no subject
And my thanks to you—
[ A pause. (He fears his voice might break.) ]
—for giving me my life back.
[ It's a simple song, by most means. A few words strung together. But they mean the world to a man like him, to someone who, for a very long time, had thrown himself body and soul into what he believed to be a greater endeavor in order to forget his own hurt. In her embrace, he breathes for the first time. ]