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“I tend to put those kinds of feelings in a box.”
“I would like to suggest that isn’t healthy. I would also like to suggest that you are an uncountable number of closed boxes. I worry they might crush you if you do not take care in unpacking them as soon as possible.”
Dropping my hand off him, I tangle my fingers together. Tight. “How am I supposed to do that and still maintain everything else? I need to be the person I’ve become in order to fit the space I’ve found.”
“People should not be made to fit into spaces. Spaces should be large enough to fit people.”
I smile. “Faerie sounds more beautiful by the moment.”
“At least some parts abide by such rules. There are all sorts of domains and characters who exist in them.”
“Like Castor?”
He flinches.
“What’s the deal with Castor? Earlier today, at dinner, you seemed to know him well. At least at one point.”
“There is no deal with Castor. I do not recommend making any agreements with him ever.”
“I’m sensing this is a touchy subject.”
A short growl emanates from his throat.
I sigh. “If you are hesitant to give me hard proof, what is the next step?”
He swears and seems to look somewhere outside the island landscape surrounding us. “The next step for me is to clean shattered glass out of my lab.”
“What?”
“The reagent was flammable. Explosive, actually.”
“What?”
He unravels my hands, squeezes them, and says, “Unpack a box. Get to the bottom of why you’ve felt a need to contain yourself. Remember who you are at the core of who you are. Be comfortable with yourself before thinking about getting comfortable with everything else. I will see you again soon, in this plane or the other.”
“How do I—”
Kissing my forehead, he vanishes.
Chapter 20
~~~~~~~~~~~~
What the furcula.
Childhood Kass.
I barely remember her.
She was a little freak who lived in a fantasy world. Her eyes were constantly sparkling. She was too loud and hyper and excitable. The other kids didn’t like to play with her so much because she took over all their games. Conversations were hard before she began studying what exactly a successful conversation looked like.
Who even knows why I’m still thinking about advice from a figment of my imagination. What, on the off chance he’s not actually a figment of my imagination?
That’s bologna, and I don’t eat bologna.
I have textured soy protein.
And that’s textured soy protein doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.
