After a fashion? Interesting. I see how he smiles when he thinks of her. If it wasn't his child I might be jealous. I feel strangely proud instead, though I don't have any reason to.

"I am always alone. I will be alone at the end."

When he kisses me it's like warm sun. It hasn't been like that between us since a long time before I died. There's a memory somewhere of vines in a room, him crowned with leaves. I shrug a little: "I will be there, then, when you are alone." I put my arms up round his neck. "Whatever else," I promise, because he's always been wise enough not to trust my nature, "I'll be there." I tug him down further and kiss him again. I'm very hard. I smile against his mouth, remembering when I was with him last, when this body was new to me.