"I don't like what you said about souls."
Amy showed out of the bathroom in our hotel room, toothbrush in her mouth and a questioning frown shadowing her eyes. I got in bed before facing her.
"All that about reincarnation, souls traveling in packs, and your son in one life being your father in the next one." I shrugged. "It's like, in the end, you have no saying in anything. You get drawn to this or that person because your soul knows them, even if you don't remember."
Amy hurried back into the bathroom to wash her mouth and came back out, now pouring facial cream on her fingers.
"Like, that's why you and I get along so well, despite the age gap? I mean, you're my mom's age. Was I your daughter in some other life? Or were we sisters? That's why you're able to put up with my temper?"
"You're not talking about you and me," she replied, covering her face with a weird green cream that looked suspiciously nuclear-hazardous.
