"I don't know why you're here, Clara," he whispered, staring at his hands. "I’m a sinking ship. Eventually, I’m just going to pull you down with me."

"I like the noise," Elias said, his voice raspy from hours of silence.

Elias squeezed her hand, feeling the warmth through her glove. "Yeah," he whispered. "But it's okay. I'm with you."

He felt a hand slide into his—smaller now, more fragile, but just as steady. Clara, in a yellow raincoat that had seen better days, smiled up at him. "Still a bit damp," she remarked.

"Then I’ll learn to breathe underwater," she said softly. "I'm not here because I think you're a project to be fixed, Elias. I’m here because I like the view from your ship, even when it’s taking on water."