There is a long silence, while I try to decide what to tell him. As I look in his dark eyes, I realize only the truth will do. Turning my back on Nico, I tell Socrates everything.
Much to my surprise and her disgust, he isn't angry or afraid. Instead, as I unfold my story to him, he becomes more and more enraptured, folding to the floor with his elbows on his knees, fists supporting his chin, listening to me like a kid wrapped up in his favorite bedtime story. Emile takes her lead from him, joining him on the floor, stretched out with her eyes locked on me. I find myself telling them not only what I experienced, but things I remember from the world as I knew it. Socrates nods at those moments, those recollections, as if he's unsurprised, but lets me continue until I finally run down, out
