The trouble was he couldn’t look back, no matter how many times they climbed together, step by silent step to the surface; the trouble was, by the time they made that climb, it was too late to stop her wanting to fall in the first place, and he never understood why.

“I’ve been telling you what’s wrong,” she shouted, “and you keep saying it’s all sunshine and roses — you’ve got one hell of a voice, Orpheus, but you never listen —“

This time, he put down his harp, and he said, “Eurydice, I’m listening.”