[peter looks at stanley, who is looking at him with an expression that's numb beyond stoned, beyond wasted. peter's always known people who were very vocal in their grief, who sank into it only to push it out, to find catharsis in talking or wailing or getting piss drunk and laughing till they cried and then crying till they laughed again. or people who were very quiet in their grief, getting up to it in the privacy of their own corners and showing a normal face to the world. he's never known anyone who didn't seem to understand grief, who didn't seem to have a passing relationship with loss to know it when it came passing through.
for the first time, peter wonders if stanley asks him what's real not just because he's tripping but because he really doesn't know how to believe in things.]
Just say it just in your head if you want. It's the meaning it that matters.
[he turns back to the window, turning stanley as well, takes a breath.]
no subject
for the first time, peter wonders if stanley asks him what's real not just because he's tripping but because he really doesn't know how to believe in things.]
Just say it just in your head if you want. It's the meaning it that matters.
[he turns back to the window, turning stanley as well, takes a breath.]
I open her way in the new life again...