Inside out
Vincent POV
What kind of name is Dimitri for a young man these days?
He had returned with his face and hair straightened; it was easier now to commit his face to memory. He would never realize it, but I would think of his face every day from this moment forward. Even if his eyes were his mothers, his face was me.
Albeit a version of me that had died long ago, but of me, nonetheless. If I had the chance to be human, that would be him. A million questions rose to the surface, but I knew it wasn't the time to ask. If I had the opportunity to talk to him again, I would ask him then.
If he ever chose to speak to me again.
"Vincent." He snapped, pulling me out of my stupor. "When is the car going to be here?"
My device sat in front of me, the number for the service pulled up. Did I hesitate to let him leave? "I changed my mind; you can stay here."
