Tell No One

by Harlan Coben

Small said, “But what about when we are dead and gone, will you love me then, does love go on?” Large held Small snug as they looked out at the night, at the moon in the dark and the stars shining bright. “Small, look at the stars, how they shine and glow, some of the stars died a long time ago. Still they shine in the evening skies, for you see, Small, love like starlight never dies . . . .” —Debi Gliori No Matter What

Still, death is a great teacher. It’s just too harsh. I wish I could tell you that through the tragedy I mined some undiscovered, life-altering absolute that I could pass on to you. I didn’t. The clichés apply—people are what count, life is precious, materialism is overrated, the little things matter, live in the moment—and I can repeat them to you ad nauseam. You might listen, but you won’t internalize. Tragedy hammers it home. Tragedy etches it onto your soul. You might not be happier. But you will be better.

She could have sounded more bored but not without a quality prescription.