07-18-2025, 12:35 AM
The only blood drawn in the kitchen was Jude's, and no, that doesn't count. Like many other experiences, pain is dulled through repetition, and so cutting himself is not an event in and of itself for Jude. Near was the event: to him go the attention and apology, with no mention of the means of the floor-melting.
The disappearance in the woods has never struck Jude as anything more than a bruise to Near's ego, as if Jude has failed to play along with some script Near had devised the moment Jude stepped from the fog. To Jude, his abrupt departure was explained by his twin's arrival, either literally by Juliet herself, or through deductive reasoning. The parallels of repetition escape Jude even now, because what? Had Near wanted Jude to stay? Or — impossible! — had Near wanted to come?
The hand dismisses, but the words ground. Jude's face is drawn with deepening suffering as the conversation takes another exploratory turn. He was prepared for the indignity of apologizing, even willing to throw in a little groveling, but the metric ton of embarrassment in which he acted almost purely to spite Near is too heavy to lift. That Near would be so disbelieving of Jude, yet so oddly secretive in the presence of a third party, affronted Jude. If Near had been consistent in his faithlessness, Jude could have simply believed him an idiot.
"I was indifferent to pissing him off," Jude says wearily, failing to shoulder his burden and instead giving it a kick with his toe. He rubs his forehead with the back of his hand and asks in the same tired voice, "Do you want to talk after work?" This Sisyphean rock of persuasion is about to reach its zenith and roll back over Jude. Maybe Jude cannot persuade Near, but maybe Near can persuade himself with a few hours and whiskey neats, or whatever it is bartenders like him drink.
The disappearance in the woods has never struck Jude as anything more than a bruise to Near's ego, as if Jude has failed to play along with some script Near had devised the moment Jude stepped from the fog. To Jude, his abrupt departure was explained by his twin's arrival, either literally by Juliet herself, or through deductive reasoning. The parallels of repetition escape Jude even now, because what? Had Near wanted Jude to stay? Or — impossible! — had Near wanted to come?
The hand dismisses, but the words ground. Jude's face is drawn with deepening suffering as the conversation takes another exploratory turn. He was prepared for the indignity of apologizing, even willing to throw in a little groveling, but the metric ton of embarrassment in which he acted almost purely to spite Near is too heavy to lift. That Near would be so disbelieving of Jude, yet so oddly secretive in the presence of a third party, affronted Jude. If Near had been consistent in his faithlessness, Jude could have simply believed him an idiot.
"I was indifferent to pissing him off," Jude says wearily, failing to shoulder his burden and instead giving it a kick with his toe. He rubs his forehead with the back of his hand and asks in the same tired voice, "Do you want to talk after work?" This Sisyphean rock of persuasion is about to reach its zenith and roll back over Jude. Maybe Jude cannot persuade Near, but maybe Near can persuade himself with a few hours and whiskey neats, or whatever it is bartenders like him drink.