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Reminiscing over the memory of purple fur under hand, Ceroba sighs, "I don't think anyone like him is out there."
Innocently, Clover suggests: "Starlo?"
Ceroba balks.
Starlo has always been kind. Supportive. Her best friend. Yet, she had been incomplete in SOUL before meeting Chujin, and with his passing, incomplete she shall remain. The parts of her he had filled ache perpetually from the absence: phantom limb. Compared to Starlo, her husband was always something more.
The naivety of children is both astounding and refreshing; she'd nearly forgotten the feeling.
"Perhaps at one point in my life, I considered it..."