“Shared pain bonds acutely. So, Clara, tell me how acutely shared love bonds?”
Miguel turned his luminescent green eyes toward the Basilica. I did not answer. I thought of Jacques and Miriam and the pain that we all shared.
It felt like some cosmic ritualistic initiation in which the protagonists had their hearts taken out every evening, only to be inserted back into their empty chests early in the morning pumping despair and agony instead of blood.
Wasn’t there any salvation?
Excerpt from the manuscript Glass Lovers.