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And the hopelessness of herself, of ever being the person she wanted to be and of doing the things that person would do.
“My angel,” Carol said. “Flung out of space.”
She had seen just now what she had only sensed before, that the whole world was ready to be their enemy, and suddenly what she and Carol had together seemed no longer love or anything happy but a monster between them, with each of them caught in a fist.
You say you love me however I am and when I curse. I say I love you always, the person you are and the person you will become.
The music lived, but the world was dead. And the song would die one day, she thought, but how would the world come back to life? How would its salt come back?
