It was a minuscule tremor—like salt dissolving in water.
One could faintly taste a bitterness as of tears, a slight saltiness, yet see not a trace of white crystal.
"I have always been trying to awaken those who pretend to be asleep, to get them to face reality…"
Alice said softly, standing in front of Qiao. She looked at Qiao as if gazing through the phantom of bygone days.
She lifted her head, her smile wan and gentle as paper, pale, gazing up at her husband who towered more than a head taller than herself, "But I forgot… I can never wake someone who is pretending to be awake."
"...Alice."
Qiao murmured her name softly. He tried to reach out, attempting to touch Alice.
But before him, Alice appeared like a fleeting illusion. He grasped at the air twice, yet it all seemed as elusive as smoke.
For he dared not touch Alice's body.
