"Probably nobody. I don't think anyone gets to make that decision for you. If you want to be here, if you want to keep trying, I don't... get to take that off you, I don't think."

Darcy shrugs, heaving herself back up off the washing machine like a boxer in the twelfth round. Her face is puffy and gross and her dark eyes are glassy and dead.

"I wish I could believe you're right about all of it. I think I'm just too old for this."