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It wasn’t worth it, of course. If he could go back in time, he’d rather have saved Brenda and never met his current wife, awful as that might sound. But that’s what he’d do. And the best part, one of the many reasons he fell so deeply and passionately in love with Terese, is that she would get that too.
We are our mistakes. Sometimes they are the best part of us.
Even as Win starts walking again with that nonchalance, his sunglasses blocking his eyes, he seems to be looking everywhere at once, like one of those Renaissance portraits whose gaze follows you around the room.
“Remy Louis XIII Black Pearl Grande Champagne Cognac,” Win said. “You say so.” Win frowned. “Myron?” “Uh-hmm.” “It’s gauche to check prices on your phone.” Myron stopped typing. “Is the bottle more expensive than a car?” Win considered that. “Not my car.” Touché.
“How old is Hector now?” Win asked. “Nine, ten?” “He’s fifteen, Win.” Win considered that. “Nothing ages you faster than someone else’s child.”
“People spiral. They’d never act this way in person. But online? Not to get too deep into it, but social media wants eyeballs. Period, the end. The best way to get that? Divide people. Make them angry. Turn them into extremists.” “Not unlike cable news,” Myron said. “Exactly. Fear and divisiveness offer engagement. Agreement and moderation do not.
