“Seems to me a writer gets to hold a lot of keys,” she said. “Gets to visit a lot of worlds and live in a lot of skins. Seems to me a writer has a chance to live forever, if he’s good and if he’s lucky. Would you like that, Cory? Would you like to live forever?” I thought about it. Forever, like heaven, was an awfully long time. “No ma’am,” I decided. “I think I might get tired.”
