"Have you found the right word yet?" I ask, resting my head on his shoulder. He leans into me and sighs. "No, have you found something to live for yet?" I stay silent for a minute and watch the moon on the lake wavering in ripples. My eyes drift down to our intertwined hands. He's still rubbing his thumb across the back of my hand softly. Back and forth as if I'm something delicate. Something precious and wanted. "Maybe" I whisper. Yes Dex. Yes I have.