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Hollis wondered if Walt knew what it felt like to be on the other end.

Human beings were adaptable by nature. You got used to things; Hollis got used to this. It hadn’t even taken long, maybe a day or two.

Did Walt know that for an instant, when he poured himself into the space between Hollis’s body and his soul, it felt good? Shocky, like the relief after being electrocuted, deeply psychologically horrifying, but good all the same.

Was he aware of how light Hollis felt now? When they lifted his arms and legs it was like two people working together to pick up a heavy box. His own hand was so heavy when Hollis moved it by himself in the dark of night. He had forgotten the real weight of his own bone and meat.

Did he know Hollis could feel his feelings too? Not just the ones he sent on purpose either. That craving Hollis didn’t have a name for at first was Walt’s addiction to nicotine. He claimed to eat everything except bananas, but Hollis knew Walt didn’t like celery, and there was discord when they ate it because Hollis liked it.

Walt was ticklish, and that thing about not being able to tickle yourself was out the window. His own elbows had grazed his side during one of the reluctant hugs Annie forced upon them and Walt had to grit his teeth hard to avoid making a sound.

Did Walt know that walking felt like being carried? The jolt of each step, present and real, but the work of it all held at a distance.

How familiar was Walt with this? Did his other “rides” tell him? How being possessed didn’t feel like being puppeteered from above, or remote-controlled.

That it felt like having someone stand behind you while showing you how to play pool or golf or wheel-throw clay.

Their heat at your back.

Their breath on your neck.