He almost, almost thought it had all been in his head, but it was the way it flashed, like it was contained in the shiny surface of the bracket, that made him feel like there was something to this. He'd had a ghostly sort of sensation that morning in front of the mirror, a moment where it felt that something like a shroud had dropped over him, and this had the same flavor to it.

He folds his hand around hers and presses gently. "To look," he says.