“No, unnie. No, they don’t. Because if they’re smart,they know well enough that spells trouble all over. And if they do… then they’resimply not smart anymore.” She’s expecting an argument of sorts – anything,really, but she’s immutable from her position on this, at least: how cansomeone be considered smart if they’re bound to do something that everyoneknows can lead to death? Then again… all of a sudden, she’s flooded with imageafter image of extreme sports and those who practice them, unhealthy food,tattoo shops, surgeons’ offices, and she’s the first to waver, even before theother as much as says another word.
“Actually, on second thought… if they take thenecessary precautions, maybe… like… if they have rubber gloves or something…”She lets go of a deep breath, hands coming to press against her temples, as ifshe’d be trying to reign in the avalanche of thoughts. “That’s not fair! I justfinished saying that and I remembered that basically all the good things inlife do, in some way or another, lead to the risk of dying. Is there anything that’seven safe anymore? I’d say sleep, but how can you even be sure? You don’t haveto do anything about it if other do—“