That's a weird thing to have in common, [ Jim reflects out loud. He flicks water with his free hand, though it's not at anybody, and shifts around, floating a little, moving them a tiny bit through the pleasant coolness. ] I never hated mine, though.
[ He's seen Chris, up there. Once. He hasn't had the heart to look again, too afraid of what his head might conjure up; the possibilities are too cruel. ]
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[ He's seen Chris, up there. Once. He hasn't had the heart to look again, too afraid of what his head might conjure up; the possibilities are too cruel. ]