[ It's the kind of day where the rain is light but still so very wet, the kind of day where the horizon looks hazy and unreal and puddles spring up in the strangest of places. Kieren keeps meaning to ask Jem if she's cold, if they should go home, but each time he opens his mouth the words die in his throat. Asking would be the same as admitting that it doesn't bother him, and while things have been getting better he's done throwing strangeness in her face. He doesn't want to start that again. So he stays silent, sitting next to his sister, watching water start to pool in the potholes along the road.

They're on one of the many crumbling stone fences that are dotted around Roarton. It's not comfortable, but it is quiet. When he swings his feet back the stone shifts beneath his heels and skitters into the dirt. Kieren wonders how long he'd have to sit here, kicking his feet, before the whole thing disintegrated. Probably centuries. And it's not like he wouldn't have the time. But that's as depressing a thought as the cold and so he shifts a little, moving so he can see Jem's face, semi-obscured by a bottle for a second. ]

So I was thinking of heading into town on Saturday.

[ His voice is light, careless. Like just a few weeks ago he wasn't confined to just his house. ]

I need some new pencils. Maybe paint. [ He's been drawing again, but there's a yearning inside of him for more of that. ] D'you want to come with?

[ She might have plans. He doesn't know. But he'd like to spend more time with her anyway. ] We could do something fun.