“Basically, it’s change. Transmuting one thing into another.”
“I get that, but…”
“Oranges to apples, black to white, life to death… it’s all just a mathematical operation.”
“Dad…”
“Honey, it’s really possible! All I have to do is work out the right matrix! And then… then we’ll…”
“Dad!” She ripped away my sheet of calculations and, crying, tore it to pieces. “I’m sorry, Dad. I miss her too. But you can’t bring her back.”
I looked at the picture on my desk. Emily. Not long ago, she’d been my wife.
And my daughter held me as I collapsed into tears.
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