“But I still don’t get why you let me go into that life if you knew Volts was going to be dead anyway?”
“You could have told me. You could have just told me I wasn’t a bad cat owner. Why didn’t you?”
“Because, Nora, sometimes the only way to learn is to live.” “Sounds hard.”
“Take a seat,” Mrs Elm told her. “A proper seat. It’s not right, you kneeling on the floor.”
And Nora turned to see a chair behind her that she hadn’t noticed before.
An antique chair – mahogany and buttoned leather, Edwardian maybe – with a brass bookstand attached to one arm.
“Give yourself a moment.” Nora sat down. She stared at her watch. No matter how much of a moment she gave herself it stayed being midnight.
“I still don’t like this. One life of sadness was enough. What is the point of risking more?”
“Fine.” Mrs Elm shrugged. “What?” “Let’s do nothing then.”
You can just stay here in the library with all those lives waiting on the shelves and not choose one.”
Nora sensed Mrs Elm was playing some kind of a game. But she went along with it. “Fine.”
So Nora just stood there while Mrs Elm picked up her book again. It seemed unfair to Nora that Mrs Elm could read the lives without falling into them.
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