“That is what Frederick is like. He’s part man, part
fantasy. He gathers your wild imaginings about him,
wraps them around himself like a garment. Until
eventually he is a figure made mostly of the mystery you
endowed him with yourself.
And you don’t try to unravel it. Because you’re afraid
that all you’d have left is a pair of brown eyes and a
limp. And by that point, you’ve already given him so
much.”