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“That makes sense.” Roza watched the ever-present fire. “The suicide?” “No.” She absentmindedly pulled at a lock of her red hair. “All of it. I could sense that there was a sadness in you. Suffering attaches itself to people.” “Oh.” I“That makes sense.” Roza watched the ever-present fire. “The suicide?” “No.” She absentmindedly pulled at a lock of her red hair. “All of it. I could sense that there was a sadness in you. Suffering attaches itself to people.” “Oh.” I winced. “It makes for the best writing, dear.” It was bright in the room, the pale daylight streaming in. A few dust motes danced between us. “Everyone suffers, of course. You can’t be a person and not suffer. But there are deeper traumas. Generational. They’re encoded in your DNA. The Holocaust. Slavery. Genocide. A reminder of the human depths of depravity....more