“So, what are we?” Serena asks one night when they’re in bed. She’s trying not to watch Bernie read and failing miserably. Her own book is open on her lap; her gaze is fixed on Bernie’s features, following each line and committing it to memory. It’s far more enthralling than the thriller she promised Jason she’d read because he wanted her opinion on the rather gory injuries in it.
Bernie’s head turns, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly. It’s the first thing anyone’s said in ten minutes and she’s caught a little off guard by Serena’s question. She frowns, faintly amused. "Serena, are you having an existential crisis?“