ours

It is hard for him to find the answer. He struggles as he speaks:

"There isn’t any one story. I mean I sometimes think how can all this have happened to us and there is never one answer. In my mind I keep trying to locate the one event, the one time, that single occurrence led to this; and each time there’s another before it."

“Primum mobile,” she says, “The prime mover.” Her skin is thin as rice paper, moon white. “You see now it’s you who is being philosophical,” she says. “Aristotle’s causes and personal effects in a zip-lock bag. No one believes in the beginning anymore, no more what’s before.”

Full dark. (Why didn’t you let me die?) But before he can say she continues: