“You fucking left us,” I hiss at this child on the other side of emptiness. “You just left us here like a bad husband or a shitty father or a twin brother or a continent. You don’t know me. We’re separate forever. Like the present and the future. Like dead and alive. I’m nothing to you. Go live your life. You had fun. You won. I hope you get bone cancer.” “I’m sorry,” Big Red Mars whispers, because she is just a person even though I want her to be a symbol of everything I have lost.
