The Pull of the Stars

by Emma Donoghue

Let them go, I told myself as I did at the end of every long shift.

I had to let it all fall from me so I could eat and sleep and be fit to pick it up again tomorrow morning.

We all live in an unwalled city, that was

The human race settles on terms with every plague in the end, the doctor told her. Or a stalemate, at the least. We somehow muddle along, sharing the earth with each new form of life.

Besides, pessimism’s a bad doctor, she added. So let’s keep our hopes up, ladies.