You know how sometimes you can be so sure what the problem is and then you realize the problem is really something else?
We moved through a city of normals, soldiers in a secret war. We were the ghosts in a haunted house, the golem of myth. To the normal, we were just superstition, make-believe. Sometimes it felt like that to us too. To me, I was a woman who couldn’t be touched, in love with a man who wasn’t there. What was real?
We can make anything we fancy in this arena of infinite promise, and this is what we come up with? Weapons? War? Surely we have more imagination than that.