I was on my feet again, my hands balled up into fists, my whole frame shaking. “You. Are. Not. Aging,” I growled through my teeth. Jacob tugged my arm gently, trying to make me sit. “None of us are. What’s wrong with you?” “Am I the only one who has to get old? I get older every stinking day!” I nearly shrieked, throwing my hands in the air. Some little part of me recognized that I was throwing a Charlie-esque fit, but that rational part was greatly overshadowed by the irrational part. “Damn it! What kind of world is this? Where’s the justice?”
