"They've always spoken to me, about what will be. So many little voices, so hard to put them into order. Like a children's chorus."

She stands behind him, a hand on either shoulder, and leans in close, so she can speak in his ear, "The softest whispers, in sad, dark dreams... a little firefly to chase in the night... it's all so easy to ignore for people who aren't like us, my songbird."

Will he notice that there's no cloud of breath from her, in the corner of his eye, as she speaks?