“I don’t know. Because you were someone I trusted. You were kind to me.”
“Kindness is a strong force.” “And rare.” “You might be looking in the wrong places.” “Maybe.”
The dark was punctured by the slow rising glow of the light bulbs all around the library.
So where else in your root life have you felt that? Kindness?
Nora remembered the night Ash knocked on her door.
Maybe lifting a dead cat off the road and carrying it in the rain around to her flat’s tiny back garden and then burying it on her behalf
because she was sobbing drunkenly with grief wasn’t the most archetypally romantic thing in the world.
But it certainly qualified as kind, to take forty minutes out of your run and help someone in need while only accepting a glass of water in return.
She hadn’t really been able to appreciate that kindness at the time.
Her grief and despair had been too strong. But now she thought about it, it had really been quite remarkable.
“I think I know,” she said. “It was right there in front of me, the night before I tried to kill myself.”
“Yesterday evening, you mean?” “I suppose. Yes. Ash. The surgeon. The one who found Volts. Who once asked me out for coffee.”
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