“All the things they tell you when you’re little, right? Fairy tales, fables, things like that. Cinderella and her prince. Wicked stepsisters with their eyes pecked out.” “Yes,” says Laura. “I remember.” “And then you grow up—and you realize it isn’t like that at all. You do things—good things, bad things, cruel things, and they all just—I don’t know—evaporate. Like rain. And you’re just supposed to accept it.”
