” Ann Veronica responded with conviction: “I wish so, too. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. . ‘At me,’ she uttered, holding her own pistol high and aiming it steadily. "She is in his power, and I am here, chained hand and foot, unable to assist her. I’ve loved her for two years, I love her now.
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