More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
The real secret was that when they looked at each other, they each thought they had the better deal. But, however much life teaches you that nothing lasts, it is still a shock when it disappears. When the man you love with every fiber starts returning to the stars, an atom at a time.
Garth holds up a hand to stop Ibrahim. “I need you to talk less. I have a low boredom threshold. I was born with it, the doctors can’t do nothing.”
“I don’t care,” says Garth. “Again, not like ‘I don’t care what film we see,’ I literally do not care, I can’t overemphasize that.
There is a murder still to be solved, but it won’t be solved today. The timelines and the photographs and the theories and the plans will have to wait. Perhaps it will never be solved? Perhaps death has defeated them all with this latest trick? Who now has the heart for the battle? They still have each other, but not today. There will be laughing and teasing and arguing and loving again, but not today. Not this Thursday. As the waves of the world crash around them, this Thursday is for Stephen.
However noble the causes of her career were, they weren’t noble enough to excuse the disregard for life. Day after day, mission after mission, ridding the world of evil? Waiting for the last devil to die? What a joke. New devils will always spring up, like daffodils in springtime.
Mankind finds futility very hard to stomach. People find all sorts of things to give their brief lives meaning. Religion, football, astrology, social media. Valiant efforts all, but everyone knows, deep, deep down, that life is both a random occurrence and a losing battle. None of us will be remembered. These days will all be covered, in time, by the sands.
The daffodils are out very early this year. I’ve seen the daffodils bloom for nearly eighty years now, and they are still a miracle to me. To still be here, to see the flowers that so many other people won’t see. Every year, poking their heads up to see who’s still around to enjoy the show. Though they are out very early this year, which I know is probably global warming, and everyone will end up dying. You can still appreciate a flower though, can’t you? Gives you hope, despite the apocalypse.
Every time I begin a scene, I think about whose mind I’d most like to experience the scene through. Who might provide the most insight? Who might be the most out of their comfort zone, or, often, which character’s perspective would make this scene the funniest? If ever there’s someone in the room with a gun, for example, I always think, “Well, this one’s for Joyce.”
