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Heron feels sure that of all things, he cannot watch her watch him leave.
Heron looks across at the boy in the chair opposite, his hair flopped across one eye. This boy who hasn’t begun yet. He wants to say, you will be so many people in your lifetime that you’ll look back one day and not even recognize some of the people you have been.
You cannot die, because you will be missing from the photographs of all the days that haven’t happened yet—the children grown up, graduations, weddings, their babies.
She could howl, I am sad beyond all normal sadness. Some essential part of me has crumbled in on itself. All of this, this day, this happiness, all of it is false.
