Bearclaw Valley count it all joy

He smiles. He cannot help it, her laughter and genial affect are infectious and he knows somehow that its something he has been missing. Comraderie, connection. How many people has he met and forgotten? How many places has he been, or seen in passing, only to lose them hours later? All of it innumerable, incongruent.

Larus recited her name in his head over and over between breaths; he stares a little bit too long at her face and tries to commit her face to memory, whatever that means. However long that will last. She seems so nice - how sad it will be to lose this.

Walk with me? He asks, shy and trying so hard to focus. Maybe if we work together we can find something to eat -- or, hmm, whoever is lingering here. He smiles again, inviting, trying to be warm, but the feeling doesn't extend to his eyes. They look sad.