Cerrit is quiet for a moment, as if he could out-stubborn the question. Not a health response, and he recognizes that. But answering is going to change things, somehow. And he’s not sure how.
“I’m twenty-five. Maybe twenty-six, now. Probably. The calendar runs differently here, so I don’t really know when to count my birthday.”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2024-07-05 06:00 am (UTC)“I’m twenty-five. Maybe twenty-six, now. Probably. The calendar runs differently here, so I don’t really know when to count my birthday.”