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Summary
It came over him like a deep-sea wave, surging and rocking; it drove into him, plunged, heavy as molten lead. There was one face that was there since the beginning, with a lopsided smile and burning auburn plaits, razorwire-sharp intellect spilling out of a mouth filled with lava and amaretto. One person whose loyalty never faltered, whose love was metamorphic rock, granite and stubborn; whose eyes were moss, ancient and unwieldy, but inevitable primary succession, terraforming a place to build a home.
“You…” Nathan whispered, in stupefied awe as he looked over at Pickles, who was watching him with eyebrow raised, “it’s always been…”