lips are dry, throat is dry

This is it. The last she'll see of Margie for... Who knows how long?

The world isn't ending. The world is going to go on.

That's...a lot to think about. For someone who's thirteen, or someone who's sixteen. And the former has a right, Maria supposes, to lean on the latter, to find out who she wants to be.

Even if the angels only have one wing, people in pairs realizing their humanity... It's pressure she really doesn't need. Neither of them do.

So Maria turns to Margie, willing strength into her voice, and asks, true excitement, "What's next?"