[ He breathes a laugh, at that, but there's an ugly hitch to it. He shuts his eyes. ]

I think it's all I do know.

[ He levers himself down onto the sand, still clumsy like he's drunk, like he's new. He lies on his side across from her, curled pathetically with the water still running up around his legs. He looks at her over the dull swill of it, and this should feel familiar enough to cut him through, should thrill him with horror enough to overcome this great and hideous longing.

What he says comes stupid and low, petulant as a child: ]

This world isn't mine. Isn't ours. Somebody's keeping us stuck here, away from where we're supposed to be.

[ He swore to end a war. He built a tomb. Things like them aren't made for real beginnings. ]

I hurt her because I wanted to go back to you.