A throaty voice said, “MISSION FAILURE,” but Augustus seemed to think otherwise as he smiled at his remnants on the screen.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and shoved it between his teeth.
“Saved the kids,” he said. “Temporarily,” I pointed out. “All salvation is temporary,” Augustus shot back.
“I bought them a minute. Maybe that’s the minute that buys them an hour, which is the hour that buys them a year.
No one’s gonna buy them forever, Hazel Grace, but my life bought them a minute. And that’s not nothing.”
“Whoa, okay,” I said. “We’re just talking about pixels.” He shrugged, as if he believed the game might be really real.
Isaac was wailing again. Augustus snapped his head back to him.
“Another go at the mission, corporal?” Isaac shook his head no.
He leaned over Augustus to look at me and through tightly strung vocal cords said, “She didn’t want to do it after.”
“She didn’t want to dump a blind guy,” I said. He nodded, the tears not like tears so much as a quiet metronome—steady, endless.
“She said she couldn’t handle it,” he told me. “I’m about to lose my eyesight and she can’t handle it.”
I was thinking about the word handle, and all the unholdable things that get handled.
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