Out of my peripheral vision, I see Four shove the door open and walk out. Apparently this fight isn’t interesting enough for him. Or maybe he’s going to find out why everything’s spinning like a top, and I don’t blame him; I want to know the answer too.
Four, stop! Stop! Stop! Please!
It’s okay. It’s okay. I love you. It’s okay.
“It’s okay. I’ve already got my spot on the floor.”
I am his, and he is mine, and it has been that way all along.