[She gives a dry laugh. Gabrielle agrees, but she can't help but keep the thought on her mind. She tries to imagine Fela in her nightmares. Like a gallant archer, or a passing fling in the summer of France. She sees her calmly persuading the girl to leave, for the bride to become nonexistent, for the three long years of loneliness shadowed by her to become full of something worthwhile.]
no subject
[But she does not see that being her.]
How do you do it?