He will live on for decades—eating, talking, laughing, fucking—while she will cease to exist in just a few weeks.

Ira wakes up floating in the muck with a taste in his mouth like rotten strawberries. 

“The collective dream is over. Squinting, we walk out of the playoffs and return to Life.”

“One might stop and wonder why it feels so holy when the ball passes through the hoop and slips down the woven net.”

“It was almost as if he were aging, and had always been, and I had too, and one day everyone living would die!”