[ The world as he knows it is very small. An apartment about a block and a half down from an intersection, ground floor, where pots of mint grow on the kitchen windowsill and a piano takes up one whole corner of the living room. A short bus ride along streets wedged between office highrises and a walk to school from there. The lazy gold windows of the coffee shop he passes on the way to the library, full of people trying to escape the evening chill. Daily obligations that stack up until he no longer remembers what the evening news sounds like beyond drowsy inklings, shut out as soon as his head hits the pillow.
All it takes is a set of numbers to make him realize the world is much smaller than he thinks.
Banagher recoils from the complete sequence like he'd been burned by it, stepping away from the piano and the power he knows it now possesses. Brows knit, he passes a disconcerted glance between it and Casval. ]
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All it takes is a set of numbers to make him realize the world is much smaller than he thinks.
Banagher recoils from the complete sequence like he'd been burned by it, stepping away from the piano and the power he knows it now possesses. Brows knit, he passes a disconcerted glance between it and Casval. ]
...I know this.