can you tell me a Story?
    what kind of a Story do you want me to tell?
    ( i am so full of Stories sometimes it feels like i am made of nothing else. i will give them to you, one by one, until there is nothing left in me. )
 
tell me about the brightest boy you ever knew.
    bright can mean a lot of things. bright like gold, like dawn, like stars…
    ( even cannon fire and muzzle flares and sword glints are bright in the darkest nights. )
 
you can choose. it’s your Story. i don’t mind.
    okay. i’ll tell you a story about the brightest Boy i ever knew.
    ( it doesn’t matter anyway; they’re all about the same Boy. it’s always been about the same Boy. )
 
does it have a happy ending?
    if i tell you now, it’ll ruin the Story.
    ( there is no ending because i refuse to call this Story finished. i am still hoping that it finds a happy ending somewhere beyond the apocalypse. )
 
fine. i’m listening.
    once upon a time, there was a Boy with fool’s gold for hair and dawn in his blood.
    ( and i couldn’t stop him from burning up with the fire in his heart. but he was beautiful when he burned. )