Later, these words, lost missives, and the taste of salt settle in the back of X and Y’s throats. Y spits it all up, the words, the missives, the salt, all encased in mucus flecked with blood. Sum of its parts. X swallows their memory with a hitch, the salt scratching the lining of their esophagus. Their eyes grow misty. The fog lifts but the view is still obscured.