“Nope, she’s not depressed,” he said addressing Andy but referring to me. “She’s aging prematurely and at a rapid rate. She’s a grumpy old woman. That’s what she is.”

“Wow,” I said. “That story is disturbing on so many different levels. One thing that’s mystifying about Indian mythology is how often the names change. The skin color changes – she’s golden, she’s black, she’s pink. Her name changes – she’s Durga, Kali, Parvati. Her personality changes – she’s a loving mother, she’s a fierce warrior, she’s terrible in her wrath, she’s a lover, she’s vengeful, she’s weak and mortal, then she’s powerful and can’t be defeated. Then there’s her marital status – she’s sometimes single, sometimes married. It’s hard to keep all the stories straight.”Ren snickered. “Sounds like a normal woman to me.”

“She’s never where she is,' I said. 'She’s only inside her head.”

“She’s never where she is,” I said. “She’s only inside her head.”

“In the sentence “She’s no longer suffering,” to what, to whom does “she” refer? What does that present tense mean?”

“But this girl...she doesn’t feel pointless. She’s real and she’s beautiful and she fits perfectly when she’s in my arms. She makes me want to feel.”