She'd been holding her breath as Dresden burned, only soot shadows remained of those she'd lived and worked with for decades, in a place of beauty and artistry. That was the last time she cared for anything, or anyone.
She thought about Alexandria, then, the libraries burning. The bartender brought her another bottle and she didn't look up, just tossed some money onto the table. He was happy not to make eye contact with her again. Looking into her eyes was like looking into the staring wreckage of those infernos, black and hollow, rife with ghosts.
Decades pass like sun shadows crossing the room through a window. Times has become unmoored, lacking perspective. She drifts between cities, towns, watching and waiting for nothing.
Days go by like wind.