[Kurt draws in a slow breath, willing himself not to think of Linda's torn face staring at the front door. He only manages to keep his heartbeat steady; the stillness he draws on so frequently has been flimsy as wet paper since the last planet.
Her coffin was lighter than little Charles'.
There's a tiny tremor in his hands that he doesn't notice, but his voice is steady.] Why the lack of control now? You seem [older] more knowledgeable.
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Her coffin was lighter than little Charles'.
There's a tiny tremor in his hands that he doesn't notice, but his voice is steady.] Why the lack of control now? You seem [older] more knowledgeable.