[He looks at her, wondering if he's been perceived -- if she's seen through the light part of I want to make a hundred hundred memories! So many I forget a lifetime's worth! into the dark behind it. Not easy to say. His tone and face are neutral when he replies, makes the statement of fact:]
Sixteen.
[Too soon, he feels.
I want to go to the afterlife, one day. But not yet. Not yet, I'm not ready, I don't want to go now, I don't want to be sent away...
It's only when he thinks sent away that the muscles in his face twitch, a tell. There's aching loneliness behind this wish for more memories, an emptiness in half his soul that nothing yet has filled.]
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Sixteen.
[Too soon, he feels.
I want to go to the afterlife, one day. But not yet. Not yet, I'm not ready, I don't want to go now, I don't want to be sent away...
It's only when he thinks sent away that the muscles in his face twitch, a tell. There's aching loneliness behind this wish for more memories, an emptiness in half his soul that nothing yet has filled.]