[ You believe in something, Carver thinks, watching Harold close. Not God, maybe, not the way that Carver does. And not in the perfect brutality of the killing fields. Something beyond.
Maybe in a different life, Carver could’ve found that, too. It hurts to realize he wants it. ]
I think you’re a good person. [ Carver gives Harold a crooked smile. ] Or you’re trying to be, anyway.
[ That’s further than a lot of people ever get. A holy thing. ]
no subject
Maybe in a different life, Carver could’ve found that, too. It hurts to realize he wants it. ]
I think you’re a good person. [ Carver gives Harold a crooked smile. ] Or you’re trying to be, anyway.
[ That’s further than a lot of people ever get. A holy thing. ]