“Wonderful, isn’t it?” Alonzo murmured.
Garner turned and looked at his companion. He was still slightly taken aback by the purple tendrils, but he could still see the immense beauty in Alonzo. And—he blinked several times, trying to take in what he now perceived. What was it?
Alonzo continued to look out and up at the night, his face a study in pleasurable contemplation. But, though he saw this, Garner was struck by howhe saw it, and other things about Alonzo. It was—what?—like he was seeing Alonzo, his being, his person, in a somewhat more structural manner, atomized as it were, the actual nuts and bolts of things open to his perception.