But if I’m the last person left”—she reaches out and takes my hand—“or, for the sake of argument, we’re the last two people left? It means no one needs to be saved. No one needs to be ruled. No one needs us at all. And yeah, there’s a part of me that finds that really attractive.” Understanding curls through me. How many times has she said or done something that immediately resonates with me? She’s a stranger, and yet I feel like I know her down to her very bones. I squeeze her hand, close my eyes, and tilt my head back, mimicking her posture. “That is really attractive, isn’t it?” Just the
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