"It's all been the same," Yuri says quietly, his fingers playing on the delicate teacup, his tea now cold. "The same as before, like nothing changed, nothing happened. They still talk about the storm, like they did every month."

It's disconcerting. The world changing, death coming and going, and the people are the same: the same words, over and over again, like reading the same lines in a book again and again.