“You think that makes us strangers?” “No,” Shiloh said. “But also, yes? Like—cells get replaced in the human body every seven years. So that’s two full iterations since 1992. You don’t have any cells left that remember me.” “I’m pretty sure my cells remember you, Shiloh.” “Not from firsthand experience.” She clenched her hands in the shoulders of his jacket. “Anything your cells know about me has been passed down from other cells through oral tradition.”
