[ More silence -- more speculative, this time, as Richard examines the sliver of green light peeking up out of his sleeve. The sliver of his shard is buried low in the heel of his hand, barely visible until he draws the cuff back to better see. ]

I hadn’t really thought about it. [ Sounds like an admission, matter-of-fact. ] Beyond the inevitability.

It’s not very different than traveling the world, is it? [ The little black slip of a snake has taken the pried sleeve as an invitation, and wound her way along his life line to lace between his fingers. ] Move on often enough and you’re unlikely to see the same faces again.