"Are we?" Rhea lifted her cup and took a sip. It was more milk than coffee; not the low-fat/no-taste kind everyone was crazy about these days but normal milk which carried a hint of sweetness of its own.
"That's too bad. I had hoped to put off the lavender perfume, the rocker and the knitting for another couple of centuries but if a grasshopper like you feels too old to play," she mused, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, that leaves me with making ugly sweaters and mittens, I suppose, and looking for a condo in Florida."