Berenice stared off the balcony toward the setting sun. In a voice I could barely hear she said, “I get angry Rose.”
“About what?” I asked.
“About Cyrus being gone. About being scared. About knowing that Laurence and I will grow old and weak and you and Justine and Jack and Quint will go on forever.”
“It won’t be forever, Berenice. Not even gods are immortal.”
She turned and glared at me. I was missing the point. Again.