“I get that,” said Cyrus. “I do. Maybe part of it is just wanting my tiny little life to have something of scale. For the stakes to matter.” He paused, then added, “For my having-lived to matter.” Orkideh smiled, placed her hand on Cyrus’s. It felt cold, dry, like canvas. “We won’t grow old together, Cyrus. But can’t you feel this mattering? Right now?”
