[ He kind of hates that idea—that there's the future, waiting, that seeing it's like skipping ahead in a movie. It's wrong. He should know: he's personally fucked up time, let a moment of sentiment, of sympathy, cascade into another war.
Maybe that's not what she's saying. Maybe there's another way of looking at it. He doesn't think she's lying—it's her judgment he wonders about.
Even so. It would explain—everything, to her, would be a plunge into an abyss. What's once more?
Reluctantly, almost regretfully, as though the words have been dragged out of him: ] Not if you die.
no subject
Maybe that's not what she's saying. Maybe there's another way of looking at it. He doesn't think she's lying—it's her judgment he wonders about.
Even so. It would explain—everything, to her, would be a plunge into an abyss. What's once more?
Reluctantly, almost regretfully, as though the words have been dragged out of him: ] Not if you die.