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He held it over the grave and let it trickle from his fingers. Then, with terrible composure, he stepped back and absently dragged the hand across his chest, smearing mud upon his lapel, his tie, the starched immaculate white of his shirt.
As for Charles—well, basically, he likes girls. If he’s drunk, I’ll do.
is death really so terrible a thing? It seems terrible to you, because you are young, but who is to say he is not better off now than you are?
The dead appear to us in dreams, said Julian, because that’s the only way they can make us see them; what we see is only a projection, beamed from a great distance, light shining at us from a dead star …
