[IC Inbox -- Snowblind]

[heavensreader]

Is it worki - oh. Ahem. This is Kesara Freamon. Please leave your message here and I will call back on you as soon as I can.







Wait, is it still - argh, how do I ma-

Comments

[heavensreader]

[They are good lessons. Kesara can't fault them that. Their only problem, really, is just as Mr. Solomons says - she knows them already. And still she's gone wrong. Why has she gone so wrong?]

So I'll have to do better next time, right? [She sounds resigned, and tries not to sound sullen. She only half succeeds.] But I will. There's a game here too, a small one, and I need to be able to play it well. As well as you do.

[devoutish]

You're already better at it than I was at your age, so you've got a head start, eh?

[heavensreader]

Only if I live as long as you have.

[Very quiet there for a moment, a reedy whisper.]

[devoutish]

[Oh, Kesara.]

If I can do it, with my dangerous life, then so can you.

[heavensreader]

[Kesara thinks about that. All the things she could say. You're not me, Mr. Solomons. You're a man. You're a sahib. You can read and write. You're not me.

She doesn't say them, though, because he can't help any of them. Some things are just her. That's simply how it is, to be Kesara.]

Thank you, Mr. Solomons. I'll do better, you'll see that I will.