He who is ordinarily so expansively elegant now fumbles for words.

    “I think I …”  He bites his lip, and his forehead fiercely wrinkles. He’s trying not to cry.  He’s done that a great deal more freely since finding her again, and he’s still learning that this is not a liability.  "Yeah, I think I’ve still gotta … forgive some part of me. The kid, or something. That first me. For when he wasn’t enough.  For seeing him in everyone I hurt, and wanting to extinguish their light too, to get rid … get rid of the evidence, that I was ever frail, or flawed, I … I guess.”