He doesn't have a concept yet of what it means to lose himself. He's never even bothered to find himself to begin with. He knows his name and his home address and his grandmother's maiden name, but he wouldn't know what to say if anyone asked about him personally. Luckily, it never happens.
He frowns anyway, invisibly, and rocks on the balls of his feet. He's still a little irritated, still unsure if she's making light of the things that matter to him. Unsure, even, how it is that the things that came to matter to him all ended up centered around a girl he was never supposed to know to begin with.
It's an oddly sickening sensation, to realize that all of this happened because he'd stepped over the lines that were drawn in the sand. He doesn't get to accept this and move on. That's for other people. People who didn't ruin any lives this week.
No response comes. Unless Collette is listening carefully for the sound of someone sliding down in the doorway, it's easy to assume that Stanley has simply left the room.
no subject
He frowns anyway, invisibly, and rocks on the balls of his feet. He's still a little irritated, still unsure if she's making light of the things that matter to him. Unsure, even, how it is that the things that came to matter to him all ended up centered around a girl he was never supposed to know to begin with.
It's an oddly sickening sensation, to realize that all of this happened because he'd stepped over the lines that were drawn in the sand. He doesn't get to accept this and move on. That's for other people. People who didn't ruin any lives this week.
No response comes. Unless Collette is listening carefully for the sound of someone sliding down in the doorway, it's easy to assume that Stanley has simply left the room.