"I think I remember seeing you for the first time. Not clearly. But the, the feel of it. Like a shovel to the face."

"Yes," I say. "For me too, yes." The thought makes my eyelids droop briefly with satisfaction.

He remembers, with my hand to guide him, and I feel his bones mending. It satisfies me.

"Should I leave it like this?"

"I think it has more character," I say. "More of your character, I should say," and I give him a mischievous look. "Or I could snap it back into place," I say, giving him a mildly innocent look.