"The boy who looked like Tommy?" I asked, not sure exactly what she meant. Of course I wanted to see Tommy again. More than anything in the world. I was capable of setting it aside, sometimes, capable of not letting the grief consume me. I'd never let it stop me from going about my day, but there were times where it caught me fresh. When I saw something that reminded me of him or of Ruth. When I wanted to talk about Hailsham with somebody who understood.

The boy who looked like Tommy was only that. A reminder of what he looked like, but the similarities stopped there. Understandably so. Despite what many claimed to think otherwise, we were capable of having our own souls. Of creating our own relationships and memories, just like any other human being. "I think it was strange enough without needing to be repeated," I said. "He was young. About sixteen. Tommy was... in his late twenties when he completed. Most of us are."