Her hands are soft and I can smell an array of scents: the perfume she uses, sweet and heady; the beer and cider she has pulled, tangy and sour; her shampoo, like coconuts; and the sweet smell of her body, just her individual scent. After all these years, as flawed and cold as he is, Johannes is my only family, if he can be called that. I bark it at her like an order, and she obeys without putting up any kind of fight.
