"You..." After picking the vegetables, Irish took the dish and washed it, and hesitated to open her mouth. "When was the last time you slept? Haven't you been awake for a long time?"
Joseph watched her bow down to wash the dishes, and his eyes became soft, "I'm used to it."
She could not bear to look up at him.
Simple words gave out the nature of his hard work, and her fingertips suddenly seemed to be dull and unconscious. She didn't ask anything more and withdrew her fingers to restore feeling to them, giving the clean dish to Joseph. She was sensitive to the scar on his hand, reached for the dish, and remembered what she saw in Pennsylvania. She could not help but ask, "The wound on your arm looks like you've had it for a long time."
Joseph looked at it, and it seemed like his smile wavered, but maybe she just imagined it because he quickly answered her question, "A very long time. The scar is from my childhood."
