Varian searched her eyes. “But I am afraid, Mary Jayne. Aren’t you?” She slid her espadrille along the rail. “I used to be, I suppose. Most often when I was flying. I used to look down at the ground below and imagine what it might feel like to hit the dirt at a thousand miles an hour. Tchow! Instant death. Would it hurt?” She shrugged. “But we all have to die one way or another. In the meantime I mean to live.”
