But what about the flu, then? Is it the flu she feels coming for them? "Could a flu epidemic wipe out forty million people, like it did in 1918?" Jackie's exasperated: "Honey, these are not important..." Grace demands. "Could it!" No, Jackie says. No. She shakes her head, holding a bowl of the soup she brought all the way into this territory, to bring it back to life. Grace looks away.
"You want some soup?" Not really. "It's really good for you, Monkey. Chicken soup. Just a little bit?" Grace doesn't even look at her mother, eyes trained on horrors. Jackie blows on a spoonful and holds it across the cold space between them, and Grace opens her mouth without looking. Jackie watches her like a hawk. "That's good. Right?" Grace nods, and Jackie touches her hair. She doesn't take her eyes off the screen, staring at the Balkans, wondering how to save them all. If it's even possible.