the wool is soft and warm, gives off some kind of heat

"You could never love me. I am..."

Demonstrative fact, observable truth. But he is...

What is he? Who is he?

It is difficult to know. And if he himself cannot know, then who could possibly be appointed to the task? In all the galaxy, all the universe?

Jim's hands are cupping his shoulders, cavernous and protective. The reassurance rolls, over and over. Ceaseless, demonstrative and eternal.

This man is capable. He is storied. He is peerless. He is tired. He is sometimes tormented by the decisions he makes.

"Darling, I could never not love you. You're..."

His logic itches.

"Spock."