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"
Just
because
I
’
m
resisting
the
wine
doesn
’
t
mean
I
can
’
t
appreciate
the
bouquet
,
"
he
whispered
.
"
You
have
a
very
floral
smell
,
like
lavender
.
.
.
or
freesia
,
"
he
noted
.
"
It
’
s
mouthwatering
.
"
"
Yeah
,
it
’
s
an
off
day
when
I
don
’
t
get
somebody
telling
me
how
edible
I
smell
.
"
He
chuckled
,
and
then
sighed
.
"
I
’
ve
decided
what
I
want
to
do
,
"
I
told
him
.
"
I
want
to
hear
more
about
you
.
"
"
Ask
me
anything
.
"
I
sifted
through
my
questions
for
the
most
vital
.
"
Why
do
you
do
it
?
"
I
said
.
"
I
still
don
’
t
understand
how
you
can
work
so
hard
to
resist
what
you
.
.
.
are
.
Please
don
’
t
misunderstand
,
of
course
I
’
m
glad
that
you
do
.
I
just
don
’
t
see
why
you
would
bother
in
the
first
place
.
"
He
hesitated
before
answering
.
"
That
’
s
a
good
question
,
and
you
are
not
the
first
one
to
ask
it
.
The
others
-
the
majority
of
our
kind
who
are
quite
content
with
our
lot
-
they
,
too
,
wonder
at
how
we
live
.
But
you
see
,
just
because
we
’
ve
been
.
.
.
dealt
a
certain
hand
.
.
.
it
doesn
’
t
mean
that
we
can
’
t
choose
to
rise
above
-
to
conquer
the
boundaries
of
a
destiny
that
none
of
us
wanted
.
To
try
to
retain
whatever
essential
humanity
we
can
.
"
I
lay
unmoving
,
locked
in
awed
silence
.
"
Did
you
fall
asleep
?
"
he
whispered
after
a
few
minutes
.
"
No
.
"
