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"... by Eva H.D." you say with a smile, adjusting your glasses. N had asked what the title of the poem was and who had wrote it. You're always happy to answer his questions.
"Wow! Well uh, that was really, really depressing!" he says with a smile (not that he ever really says anything without it), "I can't really imagine being that depressed to come home!"
"I think it's less about coming home" you say "and more about coming back to a home you don't recognize. Not because it changed, but because you had."
He still smiles but there's a slight falter to his grin. Like he recognized something you hadn't.
You stammer: "Or- or that's what how I read it, at least! Maybe it's more about finding the outside world much more interesting than home, or something."
He puts a hand on your shoulder. "I don't think I'd ever find you boring; no matter how I changed, or how interesting it is outside!"
He stammers and his eyes dart away, suddenly self-conscious. "Or- anyone... or anything else in the manor!"
You feel relieved, somehow. Like an invisible weight has been lifted off of you. You smile. "Me either."