[His question is almost funny— great plans, hm. In reality, his plans have never been so simple, his goals so attainable. It feels foreign, like stepping into a life he's never known.

He lets a small, honest smile show anyway. For once, the mask feels unnecessary.]

I'm planning to stop pretending the world needs me to be an exemplar.

[His voice is quiet and steady. The words are a list of ordinary things that feel, to him, radical: laying down a uniform, learning how to stay, learning how not to make every hour into a strategy.]

I can't guarantee I'll succeed in living a "normal" life, but it's the trying that matters sometimes, isn't it?