The Glass Ocean

by Beatriz Williams

But that’s what it is: that’s what I want, not a quick tumble in the sheets, but a love for the ages, the sort minstrels sing about centuries on. Troy lost, Camelot fallen, diplomacy upended, and kingdoms ruined.”

“People like simple stories. Good and evil, hero and villain. We try to mold people into familiar roles, roles we can understand. The devoted mother, the heartless adulteress, the wastrel, the toady, the patriot—the traitor. But it’s never that simple, is it?”

“Oh, but it’s never a question of what we deserve, Sarah. It’s a question of what we can bear.

Instead the water returned to its glassy aloofness, a criminal hiding its deeds under a false mask.

“When I’m with you . . . the shadows on the wall don’t seem so monstrous. You argue my demons into trumpery things, nursery goblins. I—I’m not sure I can fight them on my own.”