I sat on the edge of the bed around midnight and watched myself sleep in the October nights. I watched the closed eyes stir in fits. What dreams and nightmares. I watched the light from my head fill the room and ran a hand along the fine hair. I've been alive for so long. He and me, we've been sitting on the lake for a long time. He and me, we're just abstract numbers and information. Stories and tales. We don't exist like the others think we do. The boy with the light in his head, and the shadow in his step.

I don't want you to grow attached to him. He knows he is tired. He just hasn't found out how tired he really is just yet. The story will break his heart, and the muse will be the greatest he will ever know. It could bring me to tears but the truth is...I just don't have the heart for it anymore.