I imagine having that sixth sense, the certainty that what I'm looking for is within reach, even if it's still hidden.
I understand better than she'd imagine that history is indelible. You can mask it; you can patch it smooth and clear; but you always know what's hidden underneath.
Can you imagine what it would be like to know that your life was just going to be a series of days that were all the same, that were do-overs?
I imagine how cool it would be if all small talk wasn't lies.