“It was inevitable, Russ,” Vik says again. There is a certainty in his voice that hurts. “Love. Death. It doesn’t matter.” He turns back to the bar. “We can’t change it. All we have is the time.” Finally, I turn back as well. I pick up my glass again so that I won’t burst into sobs. “If only we were lamps instead of people,” I say. If only.
