“This was the place where someone had led her, only she could not remember who and could not remember when. Just that this was where she was now.”

“Mosca had preferred it when she could hear the edge in her companion’s voice. Now she felt like someone who knows that there is a scorpion somewhere in the room but can’t see where it is.”

“I would like to be remembered as someone who did the best she could with the talent she had.”

“How do you want to be remembered?~As someone who did the best she could with the talent she had.”

“She had read about people-where? she could not remember this either- who refused to name their children for several weeks, feeling them to not be yet of the earth, suspeded still between two worlds.”

“Sweetie. Look at me.”She did, but it was difficult now, when she could never remember a time she hadn’t wanted to look at his beloved face. She blinked, trying to forcethe fresh torrent of tears back where they belonged. It just wasn’t possible. No, there was no emptiness now. She was bursting at the seams, overflowing.“Don’t cry,” he said gently, swiping her cheeks with his thumbs. “You cry and I want to break something. Or someone. What is it?”