Girl: Look at me. Pathetic? Maybe. Maybe pathetic. I forgot the word for it. I can’t tell whether or not I have a soul anymore. That’s why i’m asking you–you with the long limbs and blue eyes. Do I have a soul?
Look at me.
Please. Please look at me.
[She is unsure of the amount of time that passes here. It could have been seconds, or millenniums. His head slowly turns and his eyes meet hers. In an instant, everything that is still erupts into music and color, painting her existence with a low, warm hum at first, a hum that becomes louder and more beautiful, a hum from the depths of her inner being and there: she had uncovered her soul, an echoic explosion of beautiful nothings.]
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