Janette drained the last of her goblet, then looked at it mournfully. It never lasted, an apt metaphor for the feelings chasing themselves in her soul. She and Nicolas never made it more than a few decades. Life for her favored companions never held the right mix of adventure and safety. Faces drifted away, even in her memory, lost to the vagaries of time.
Nothing remained, even with the kiss of eternity. Everything disappeared or soured into vapors of what once had been.
"Mon dieu, you are a maudlin fool tonight," she told herself, before going to seek something new.