[The page adheres to his fingers with the surety of a magnet meeting metal, a sense of connection—

just a moment, where he's aware of just how big he is in this space. Hands large enough to hold the entirety of that stained-glass heart between his palms, trails of history and memory that spill out behind him like a cape, like the smoke from a bonfire that creeps and seeps into everything he's passed.



Stroke after stroke, ink starts to mark that blank page, traced by some unseen pen.]