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“He sipped his wine and swirled it in the goblet, wishing bitterly that he could close the distance to the little cover by the fire and be one of them again. Wishing he could remember the touch of Will’s hand, the press of Tom’s mouth, without tasting the enormous soft emptiness that threatened to open like black wings and enfold him.” — Elizabeth Bear
He sipped his wine and swirled it in the goblet, wishing bitterly that he could close the distance to the little cover by the fire and be one of them again. Wishing he could remember the touch of Will’s hand, the press of Tom’s mouth, without tasting the enormous soft emptiness that threatened to open like black wings and enfold him.