He tells her, once his throat is barely able to make noise and he is hungry-his throat hurts-he tells her he can't ever remember talking this long. She wants to say it's because he's so concise. The words can't come out. She wonders if he'll ever try to take a glimpse into her head. She wonders if they could talk that way.
He sounds sad and his voice is rough, his accent is thicker when he tells her goodbye. She wishes she could cry, but she's just floating in the darkness. No way to move anything. The concept of a body is vague, and abstract. Like memories that fade if she thinks too hard about it. But she can feel.
He vows as soon as possible-he'll be there the next Sunday. He promises to tell her about Jeremy, and her friends. Then, he lets go of her hand. The feeling of warm is gone, and she's alone with her thoughts again. She feels like that will happen often.