Graham doesn't answer at once. He steps back, silently taking stock of the soil under his shoes, the sound of waves lapping up from the lake, the sunlight that gets caught in his eyes. He lowers himself to the rocks again, and for a moment, sits with his head in his hands.
Then he asks, so similar to how they'd watched him ask it before -
no subject
Then he asks, so similar to how they'd watched him ask it before -
"Is this real?"