[Her shaking stills, or at least slows. She watches him curiously, almost clinically, as he covers his mouth, as he moves. He looks sad. He looks so sad.]

[Why is he so sad? She's the one who . . .]

[A hiccup in the back of her throat; then she's still again.]

I don't know what to do.

[A pained confession, but one she thinks he's heard before. So often she doesn't know what to do. So often she needs guidance. For a while she didn't think she wanted it, but now she doesn't know how to do without it.]

I have all these memories coming back. I remember people . . . I remember you.

[She remembers being afraid. She's still afraid now, but it's distant fear, somehow, like it's buried under several layers of earth. Instead of wanting to run, she wants to reach for him--feels like she can't not.]

Did you get hurt?