[His eyes flick to the now peeling label on the bottle. It reminds him of the way his body too converts the anxious energy crackling inside him through the conduit of his fidgeting hands.]

I've been...okay.

[Now his gaze wanders the gauzy drapes and jars of lights hanging overhead, drops to the stitching of the quilt underneath him. He traces the stitches with his finger. Wilhelm has gotten used to lying when confronted with that question, but he has also gotten more practice with naming his feelings. He can be honest with his friend. He lets go of a sigh.]

I mean, it was a lot, dealing with all those dreams. But...it was good to confront those things too.

[This time of year, he's haunted by nightmares of his brother's death anyway. This was the first time he woke up from such a dream feeling...maybe not better, but not completely devastated. Not entombed in the sense that he's alone.]