“I’m like a broken mirror.” He leans his head back against the airplane seat headrest and sighs.
“That’s incredibly dramatic.”
Her response is rewarded with a rueful smile laced with reluctant amusement.
“Hey, but even if you were,” she adds softly, “That would be alright too. You know I’d help piece you back together again.”
Her heart sinks the same time his smile fades. And even though people are still boarding the aircraft, it feels like they’ve been shot out of the sky, falling in unison, straight through clouds of self-doubt that refuse to catch them.
“I am,” he insists. “And the thing is, you could get cut trying to help. And even if you didn’t, it wouldn’t make a difference - because in the end, my reflection still won’t ever be the same.”
She squeezes his hand in response. And for now, that’s enough.