“Ok. Look around you, James. What do you see?”
James looked around the room and let his eyes land back on Jezebel Leigh. “I see a room full of people drinking coffee and eating baked goods.”
“Wrong! What you see are the people who are nameless, faceless, and countless. In this world, the names our parents gave us don’t matter anymore. We aren’t those people. We never were.”
“I think you are wrong. Your name does matter. When you leave this world you want to have a clean, untarnished name to carry with you; don’t you?” James’s voice became one of seriousness. Jezebel Leigh laughed hysterically; so loudly in response to his question a hush fell over the whole room as all eyes turned to the commotion at Jezzie’s table.
“James…James…James,” she started in a low voice shaking her head in utter disappointment, “you don’t really believe that do you?”
“Of course I do. Don’t you?”
Jezebel reached out her hand and softly placed it on his in a gesture of pity. “James, we aren’t ever leaving this life. Once you are in this world you don’t ever get out; you just get forgotten.”
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