[ as he speaks, marta can't help but think of harlan. of his macabre stories, spurred by his morbid imagination. how, even at the very end, faced with the possibility of an awful death, the man could still sit back so calmly and pen the situation down like it were nothing more than a funny little anecdote he could incorporate into his next bestseller. he was a man who dreamed in murders and mysteries, lived and breathed the genre like it were as familiar as coming home. yet he was kind, and he was gentle. was writing it all down his own way of coping? ]

We all do what we can, don't we.

[ her thoughtful hum is matched with a brief wistfulness that she is quick to draw back in on a breath. another page turned, though not a single word was read. ]

Something like that, [ she says, carrying on like neither of them had made such melancholy pitstops in conversation. ] They start off at odds with each other, two very different people with very different wants. Saving each other is a pretty tall order for any relationship's beginning. I'd say right now it's just enough to hope that their paths keep crossing. That they'll figure it out along the way.