Frypan has no reason to process or think too deeply about the returning memories. They’re not like new revelations, things to which he should respond somehow. They’ve always been there, inside him. He has already reacted to them. He has been shaped by them. He’s not l e a r n i n g. He’s not e x p e r i e n c i n g. He is r e m e m b e r i n g.
We keep behind closed doors Every time I see you, I die a little more Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls It’ll never be enough It’s obvious you’re meant for me Every piece of you, it just fits perfectly Every second, every thought, I’m in so deep But I’ll never show it on my face