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Snippet: Alien Grief
The Dime
"Poor boy," Stahn said, leaning over the still warm body to gently kiss the dead man's forehead. "He deserved better. Shall we get going then?"

Kiera could feel the heat of her own glare across her cheeks. "Do you feel anything anymore? Anything that might make someone think you are even remotely human still?" She knew that they had to exit the scene quickly as well, before the arrival of any of the three cabals who were searching for them. But after even just an hour along side Stahn and his eerily aloof manners, she was emotionally tense.

"I felt a great deal for him," Stahn replied, with a faint look of hurt on his face. "I dare say I even loved him."

"Well, this is not how I would react if I found my husband dead," she shot back, ready for him to end the conversation with another quizzical shrug. She checks the rounds in her gun, and turned her eye to the street, hoping that things were clear enough for them to make a run for it. All signs pointed to a fortunate lull in being hunted.

Instead of leading her out of the building, though, Stahn stood his ground. It was one of his characteristically uncharacteristic moments. "I'm sure you would, Kiera. I'm sure you would mourn loudly, and fret your hair, and swear that you would never be able to go on. The first time."

Before she could bite back, he continued on. "And yes, I have no doubts that you would vow it would be the only time, that you could never love again, that your heart would never be whole. But now imagine you have eternity, Kiera. An eternity that grinds onwards, until three lifetimes have past since you lost your husband. And you do fall in love again. And you lose him again. Murder, sickness, age, it's all the same death. And it hurts again, and you swear in the same grief. Yet your eternity marches on. Your heart grows over its scars, and continues to break, again and again.

"You get used to knowing that death is in ever kiss, that your love is weak against the mortality of the rest of the world. And they way you grieve starts to look alien to everyone else. That doesn't mean you don't grieve, that you don't hurt," he said carefully to her, not breaking his gaze. "It's just another reminder that despite how you were born, and the way you appear and communicate and locomote, you aren't human any more. Not even remotely."

She had no response for him, and fortunately he didn't require one. He merely lowered his damnable shades back over his eyes, and motioned to her that he was leaving, and maybe she would like to come with, since they were running from the same people.
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