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She certainly doesn't want to cause more pain to the people she loves. She knows there is only one thing to do.
    Liz looks out the porthole one last time. The sun has almost set, and she passingly wonders if it is the same sun they have at home.
    The only person on the dock is Betty Bloom. Although Liz has never seen Betty before, something about the woman reminds Liz of her own mother. Betty waves to Liz and begins walking toward her with purposeful, even strides.
    "Welcome, Elizabeth! I've been waiting such a long time to meet you." The woman pulls Liz into a tight embrace that Liz attempts to wiggle out of. "How like Olivia."
    "How do you know my mother?" Liz demands.
    "I'm her mother, your Grandma Betty, but you never met me. I died before you were born."
    Grandma Betty embraces Liz again. "You were named for me; my full name's Elizabeth, too, but I've always been Betty."
    "But how is that possible? How can you be my grandmother when you look the same age as my mother?" Liz asks.
    "Welcome to Elsewhere." Grandma Betty laughs, pointing matter-of-factly to the large banner that hangs over the pier.
    "I don't understand."
    "Here, no one gets older, everyone gets younger. But don't worry, they'll explain all of that at your acclimation appointment."
    "I'm getting younger? But it took me so long to get to fifteen!"
    "Don't worry, darling, it all works out in the end. You're going to love it here."
    Understandably, Liz isn't so sure.

A Long Drive Home
    In Grandma Betty's red convertible, Liz just stares out the window and lets her grandmother do all the talking.
    "Do you like architecture?" Grandma Betty asks.
    Liz shrugs. In all honesty, she has never put much thought into the subject.
    "Out my window, you'll see a library built by Frank Lloyd Wright. People who know these things say it's better than any of the buildings he built on Earth. And Elizabeth, it's not just buildings.
    You'll find new works here by many of your favorite artists. Books, paintings, music, whatever you're into! I just went to an exhibit of new paintings by Picasso, if you can believe it!" Liz thinks Grandma Betty's enthusiasm seems forced, as if she's trying to convince a reluctant child to eat broccoli.
    "I met Curtis Jest on the boat," Liz says quietly.
    "Who's he?"
    "He's the lead singer of Machine."
    "I don't think I've ever heard of them. But then, I died a while ago, so that's no surprise. Maybe he'll record something new here?"
    Liz shrugs again.
    "Of course, some artists don't continue here," Grandma Betty goes on. "I suppose just one life of art can be quite enough. Artists are never the happiest folks, are they? Do you know the film star Marilyn Monroe? Well, she's a psychiatrist. Or rather she was, until she got too young to practice.
    My neighbor Phyllis used to go to her. Oh, Elizabeth, and straight ahead? The funny, tall building? That's the Registry. That's where you'll have your acclimation appointment tomorrow."
    Liz looks out the car window. So this is Elsewhere, she thinks. Liz sees a place that looks like almost any other place on Earth. She thinks it is cruel how ordinary it is, how much it resembles real life. There are buildings, houses, stores, roads, cars, bridges, people, trees, flowers, grass, lakes, rivers, beaches, air, stars, and skies. How entirely unremarkable, she thinks. Elsewhere could have been a walk to the next town or an hour's ride in the car or an overnight plane trip. As they continue to drive, Liz notices that all the roads are curved and that even when it seems like they're driving straight, they're actually going in a sort of circle.
    After a while, Grandma Betty realizes that Liz isn't keeping up her end of the conversation. "Am I talking too much? I know I have a tendency to "
    Liz interrupts. "What did you mean when you said I was getting younger?"
    Grandma Betty looks at Liz. "Are you sure you want to know now?"
    Liz nods.
    "Everyone here ages backward from the day they died. When I got here, I was