[Mitchell thinks, again, of George. Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last. There's something human in thinking only of the present moment, never focusing on the day that was always going to come, eventually. Not the day that George moved house--that had been such a small thing, at the time, a thing that Mitchell knew how to manage. There was no finality to it. But to lose him--to really, really lose him--
He flicks ash from the end of his cigarette and watches it drift to the floor, and flare, and die.]
And what would you say has been your way?
[Of keeping sane, he means. He thinks, then, of Daisy. It's still sometimes weird, not to see her right at Ivan's arm.]
no subject
He flicks ash from the end of his cigarette and watches it drift to the floor, and flare, and die.]
And what would you say has been your way?
[Of keeping sane, he means. He thinks, then, of Daisy. It's still sometimes weird, not to see her right at Ivan's arm.]