“ we found a little piece of heaven here. ” (their trip??)
Many things might Klaus expect of her ( little though he had proven able to predict her ), but this was not among them. Her words drew a sharp gaze — too sharp, perhaps — as he sought to evaluate what thoughts lay behind them. He had yet to learn, it seemed, that such efforts would do him little good.
His own response came more scornfully than he had intended. Perhaps it was fear rooted in his uncertainty, for he could not hope to ascertain the reason for her words, in his paranoia which bid him wonder if perhaps she meant to mock him and the time they had spent together. Perhaps it was simply the cynicism of one who had lived far too long and who would live far longer still, who had known little save pain in its many forms across the centuries. ❛ There’s no such thing as heaven. ❜
And even if there was, he thought to himself, not even so much as a sliver of it was likely to be spared for him.
It was not that Klaus did not enjoy her company, nor that he had found their trip full of the tedium and agony that seemed to dog his everyday existence. Yet he had never been able to settle in, to relax and simply accept the world at face value. There must always be hidden depths, and always those depths meant him harm. To allow himself to acknowledge something good, after all, would only make the pain worse when it all crumbled about him. Better to embrace it now, to accept the inevitable.
If nothing else, Klaus found it far easier to distract himself with such thoughts than to embrace the possibility ( unlikely though it seemed ), that she had truly enjoyed their jaunt.
