Somehow, he has a harder time keeping up the act here. He turned his face away from Sarah the moment they stepped into the garden, discerning the plants and smelling them, breathing in their very real scent through his fake lungs. He blinked, his eyes suddenly wet. When she spoke, he could feel tears running down his cheek.

He says nothing.

The sounds of his breathing, growing steadier as a futile attempt to regain his composure, only encourage more tears.