[ and it is a comfort, in the end. nanami’s grip is the anchor by which choso has moored himself, and just like any other human left adrift he, too, clings to warmth and hope. ]

The Sahara.

[ there is no digital notepad to scribe the word down onto now, so he says it instead, rolls it around on his tongue and hopes he’s got enough of a feel of it to remember it in another world, a brighter, warmer place than this. ]

The Mojave was awful. It was hot, and bright, and sand got into everything.

[ but that’s no way to reassure someone. try again. ]

But at night, there was nh-nothing but stars. More stars than I could ever count. All together we camped under those stars and watched the sky turn.

We can teh-take you there, maybe.