After a stunned period, I resumed querying agents. What else was there to do?
Better to live alone than with this kind of emotional wreckage, I counseled myself.
If a group of people, maybe our entire planet, wanted to exit the wormhole, would their desire be enough to make it happen?
As I looked back, they sifted through the air, like ash, and resumed feeding.
Although the price is right, leafing through piles of trash looking for a gem isn’t exactly efficient.
