"Shush, Harry." a soft feminine voice said. Bare feet slapped softly on the floor, coming closer. A whiff of something floral floated by Andy’s nostrils. So out of place. He opened his eyes and saw a beautiful Asian face before him, expression concerned. The woman had a classic, ageless winsomeness that clashed with her white hair. The contrast triggered a memory. Andy matched voice and face with the memory: this was Kit. Andy focused on her dark eyes. He knew those eyes, but he couldn’t remember from where. Her delicate fingers lifted Andy’s eyelids one at a time. Her expression grew sad. "He is damaged."