“Hmm,” I say. I move my tongue and lick my lips. Gradually, I lift my head a little off the beanbag, and sit up a bit. The room rocks as I do, but it soon levels out again. My vision starts returning to me. I can see so much that Ben can’t see with his fully human eyes. I can see specks of dust on the wires of the fairy lights; flecks of light coming in through the gaps between the blinds and the window frames that mingle with the light in the room; thin slivers of electricity flickering in each of the light bulbs like little blue hairs. Ben is below me now, his eyes open but seeing so little. I bend my knees and feel them creak, like the milk inside is splitting and loosening. “I think it’s better to not concentrate too much on whether you’ll be forgotten or not after you die,” I say, watching him.

“Hmm. That’s pretty wise,” Ben says.

I grit my teeth. I can’t tell what it is I want. I can’t tell what I want to do, which part of me is telling me what—whether it’s still hunger, or something else I’m feeling, looking at Ben’s body stretched out below me.

I reach out toward him, easily now, the muzzle, I suppose, removed; so easily that I feel like my arms and legs could bend backward if I wanted them to, like I could put my hand through things with no effort, through Ben’s skin and his ribs and muscle to reach his heart. I put my hand on his stomach, my eyes now wide, my breathing now normal, nice and slow and calm. I move my hand across Ben’s body to his arm, quickly, but gently, and then slip it into his hand. It’s warm and slightly clammy. For a moment, I feel wonderful—less out of control, more human—existing here under the lights, feeling my skin warming slightly, thinking about us not leaving The Place or this moment ever, of turning it into a home, of making meals for each other and for our friends.

After about a second, though, Ben pulls his hand away. I feel the air that replaces it as though it is a solid object. “Lyd. We can’t be like that,” he says.

I find the pocket of my trousers. A dark little place for my hand to crawl into. My heart is beating faster than usual again but, this time, it doesn’t feel good. “I’m sorry, Lyd. I’m with Anj. The other night was a mistake.”