"Does it get better?"

There was silence on the other end of the line. I thought I heard someone breathing. Maybe it was my own breath, heavy with tears and snot.

"I just want to know if it gets better," I say again. "Not if they come back, not if... I'm alone forever, just... does it get better?"

Silence again. And then the faint clatter of dice.

"Yes," said a low voice through the phone. "It does."

And then they hung up.