Sublime

but then her little girl came along, and her little girl’s daddy left, and before you knew it . . . she was one of them. The needy.

A wild woman, her mother called her. A shocking piece of work. And so she is. Lord have mercy.

Stella—a woman who resembled her just as little but would be a better version of her mother.

She had once read in a book about consciousness that over the years, the human brain makes an AI version of your loved ones. The brain collects data, and within your brain, you host a virtual version of that person.

“Dov,” she said. “Would you mind …?” She shook her chain.

The air in the room felt strange: heavy yet about to move, as if on the threshold of a storm. The Padavano girls shifted in their chairs. They could all feel Cecelia down the street, holding her daughter as if she was a life preserver, trying to listen to words she couldn’t hear.

cicerone

Emeline had always seemed occupied with watching everyone else and trying to be helpful, but she’d stayed on the sidelines, as if it weren’t her turn to live. William had thought the hesitation was part of Emeline—part of her personality—but now it was gone. She seemed fully alive in front of him.