Micah shrugged. “Thinking. It’s too crowded in there. Can’t get out of my own head.”
August nodded, moving ever closer. He looked so young with his wild eyes and careless hair, it was often hard for Micah to believe that August was actually a year older than he. At twenty-three, August had been abandoned by the Orphanage over seven years ago, made to earn his keep in the Yellow District after his auction had not borne fruit. But that in and of itself had perhaps been a mercy, as Booker had taken him in and given him some semblance of freedom and normalcy.
Though August knew his good fortune in having Booker’s protection, he had refused to allow Booker to remove his tracker. Somewhere within him, there still lived a hopeful little boy who believed in the ideals of the esteemed and noble government. In the promise of Tovar’s Extraction…in the promise of going home.
“What are you thinking about?” August asked, blond eyelashes fluttering over curious green eyes.
“Nothing. Bad dreams.”
August seemed to understand. A child of the outer regions of Elysian prior to the Fracturing, he too knew pain. He knew loss. Just like Micah, August had had everything taken from him. It was a kinship and connection that only those of Tartarus would ever be able to understand.
“Your mother?” August asked.
Micah nodded. “It doesn’t matter now. It was so long ago. But the ghosts still remain.”
He saw August hesitate before eventually deciding to say what was on his mind. “I think sometimes that perhaps they always will. Perhaps they’re trapped down here with us, a tangible part of who we’ve become.” He paused. “I’m going to see Winnie today. I want to spend time with her before the customers show up.”
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Hellie Heat 
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