That stills him for a moment. Not for long. Just a hitch in his step. Because it's something that Carver's wondered himself, in the dark hours of the early morning when he can't sleep and the insomnia makes him feel like a ghost.
"I think so," Carver admits, very softly. He doesn't look at Bossie.
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"I think so," Carver admits, very softly. He doesn't look at Bossie.
It feels dangerous to hope.