“Their eyes locked.They could see into each other's souls. This was why she had been bored.”

“I hate that she's hurt. I hate that she's been hurt, by me and by others, throughout the entire arc of her life. I barely remember pain, but when I see it in her I feel it in myself, in disproportionate measure. it creeps into my eyes, stinging, burning.”

“Came to . . . see you.”“But I had to go home, remember? You were supposed to say good-bye.”“Don't know why you . . . say good-bye. I say . . . hello.”Her lip quivers between reactions, but she ends up with a reluctant smile. “God you're a cheeseball. But seriously, R—”

“She remembers sprinting over the thin after-waves that slid over each other like sheets of glass. When she ran with the waves it looked like she wasn’t moving. When she ran against them it looked like she was flying. She refuses to believe her brother will never know these things. Somewhere, they will find sand.”

“I think we crushed ourselves down over the centuries. Buried ourselves under greed and hate and whatever other sins we could find until our souls finally hit the rock bottom of the universe. And then they scraped a hole through it, into some ... darker place.”

“Now I’m just standing here on the conveyor. Along for the ride. I reach the end, turn around, and go back the other way. The world has been distilled. Being dead is easy. After a few hours of this, I notice a female on the opposite conveyor. She doesn’t lurch or groan like most of us. Her head just lolls from side to side. I like that about her. That she doesn’t lurch or groan. I catch her eye and stare at her.”

“I wonder how well she sleeps at night, and what kind of dreams she has. I wish I could step into them like she steps into mine.”