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Colin allowed his head to rest against the back of the booth, his eyes drifting towards the ceiling, lost in thought. “Do you ever think about how strange it is that people just… exist?” he asked. Penelope contemplated his words, the weight of them settling in the air between them.
“Not particularly,” she replied, a flicker of curiosity igniting within her.
“No, no, really - think about it,” he urged, gesturing vaguely with his hand, nearly toppling over his glass in the process. “All these people walking around, having their own thoughts, living their own lives, doing... stuff. And none of us really know what goes on inside each other’s heads.”
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