[he's smiling right up until the bottom goes put from under him, like the first big drop of a rollercoaster. Peter gets to wait through a long pause. He had just been about to type "I don't have a son" - but then - why had he been so angry about - why was there a -
Norman freezes in terror as he grasps for memories he knows are rooted in things that happened. Galas. Company picnics. His Peter's graduation. Waking up on the floor to Bernard and - and - who? It was like someone had taken a bad eraser to his mind, and places weren't gone, only smudged. When he finally types again, it's terse more because his hands are shaking than anything else]
no subject
Norman freezes in terror as he grasps for memories he knows are rooted in things that happened. Galas. Company picnics. His Peter's graduation. Waking up on the floor to Bernard and - and - who? It was like someone had taken a bad eraser to his mind, and places weren't gone, only smudged. When he finally types again, it's terse more because his hands are shaking than anything else]
Peter, I can't remember him.