“Rog, you ready?” asked Kyra, her hands holding his. She looked for a reaction, some sort of expression, which from Rog was almost a given. Maybe it was the blindfold or maybe it was fear that gave forth the blank stare. Either way, she felt it and it felt real, it felt solid, it felt like she could reach out and massage it; and she knew, the only way into that room, to see Yul, was through that fear.

Rog took a heavy breath. “Kyra–” He squeezed her hands and tilted his head slightly as if the words in his mind were leaning the ship as they attempted to escape.

“I’m here Rog and I’m not going anywhere. Would you like me to go in with you or wait outside?”

Rog sighed. “I thought this moment would be a happy moment. She survived. She is going to live–a miracle. Even the doctors said as much. So, it is a happy time. Right?”

Kyra leaned into Rog, wrapping her arms around him and whispered into his ear, “I don’t know what happiness is anymore. But I do know that door is a bridge, one we both must cross. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I’ve played it out, the decision, in my mind a thousand times. When you lose your sight, your mind just goes into overdrive, relentlessly thinking and it has been driving me crazy. I no longer know what is real and what is pure bullshiott.” Rog paused. Kyra held him tight. Only the sound of their breathing could be heard in the hallway. (camera pans from the back of Kyra’s beautiful black mane–she is dressed in her form fitting black leather–180 degrees as we see her sapphire blue eyes water as rain on glass and look down and to the left). “You know what I fear the most?”

A tear falls from Kyra’s eye and we watch in slow motion it fall toward the white floor. “Tell me Rog.”

Rog rolled his upper lip inside his lower. Kyra could feel his heavy warm breath on her neck and images of a braying horse in the start gate, lathered with uncertainty stuck in her whirling mind (she would later say the smell of fresh turned earth filled her senses as clearly as if she were on that horse). “That the Yul in that room is not our Yul.”

Kyra feels Rog tremble with the words and she hold him tighter. Camera picks up a wetness on his eye mask. She rolls her eyes upward. “I know.”

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