❝ It doesn’t get better and it doesn’t get easier. ❞
She wonders about him. (She worries about him.) Does he get enough sleep? Does he have a sister? A brother? A mother or a father? Does he have cousins? Aunts? Uncles? Does he have people who love him? --She knows him, but she doesn’t really know him, not at all. And now-- she thinks she’s just upset for him, maybe a little angry.
She knows what they do demands hurt, it expects it. But each time she saves someone she feels this little light flick on in a dark room-- and maybe, maybe she lost everyone, everything, maybe she has no home-world-- maybe, but she has hope.
“It does,” Her voice is a bird’s chirp, insistent, and it sounds bright and a little warmer than usual, “It does get better, and it does get easier. And if you feel alone-- if you feel like there’s nobody else out there, you remember somebody else feels alone like that, too. You can be together with somebody even when you feel alone.”