He misses her.
Not her eyes, her hair, her scent, her voice, the words she would say. Her. The sense in the back of his mind that
she was nearby, at most a wave away.
When he left for MedAcad, he'd told her that all she ever had to do was call, and he'd be there. The truth was, modern communication
technology was a comfort to him as well. Every time her face appeared on his vidscreen, a tightness would ease in his chest.
God, he loves her so much it hurts.
Now she's far away, and the school doesn't allow waves. She's been thrown back centuries, reduced to writing letters,
which would be bad enough if they sounded like her. But there is nothing of River in these sheets of paper; no matter how
many times he pores over them, they are empty.
He runs his fingers over the plain paper, the texture of the ink. Not even a ghost of her.
He closes his eyes and runs through his memories- River laughing, River dancing, River holding her hand into a shaft of sunlight
and smiling. River reading, which was never a passive activity for her but a full-body experience, hunching over the book
with little exclamations and cries, hands fluttering over the pages as if striving to keep the ideas from flying up in her
face. Holding them back where she could see them. And she saw everything.
She saw, and she could tell him about it. She could hold her brother's hand, and smile up into his face, and sigh "Si-mon,"
and walk him through...whatever. The mysteries of the universe. The subtext of a poem. It didn't matter. She could brush
aside the veil that hung between the average human mind and Truth.
Now everything is blurred.