And old, old like the faces that surround them in the ruins. The wound on her side bleeds. She writhes beneath him. The eyes dead. Henry whimpers, half-naked in his tails and shirt.
Henry cries out.
Henry grows limp. Trying to pull himself together. He cannot find his signature anywhere in the ruins. He cannot remember his name. The way he stares past them to the monitor, as if he sees something there more hideous than his own image.