He scribbled a few notes — something for later, perhaps, he smiles.
She puts to bed her inner child
But for now, there’s business at hand, and he’s far enough away from it.
An inner child bed, for instance
Why must it be blurry face, she asks him as she returns.
That face. That boy. The burns
Of course he doesn’t answer, he doesn’t know yet. That comes later.
Hence the notes
You should have posted those last 8 lines. I’m out–