She wouldn't be on the bus with him. She wouldn't roll her eyes at him in English. She wouldn't pick a fight with him just because she was bored. She wouldn't cry in his bedroom about the things he couldn't fix for her.
I'm fine, he said gently. Back on the horse, Cath. What's the horse? she sighed, watching him pull on a South High hoodie. Jogging? Working too much? Living, he said, a little too loud. Life is the horse.
Okay,' she said, and kissed him, already feeling so relieved. And feeling some sort of evolutionary satisfaction. Like she'd made the right decision picking this man; he was going to find all the best sticks for their nest and chase off all the predators.
Eleanor knew that she was fat, but she didn't feel that fat. She could feel her bones and muscles just underneath all the chub, and they were big, too. Park's mom could wear Eleanor's rib cage like a roomy vest.
You know my mum. ‘Information wants to be free.' ‘There's no such thing as a bad thought.' Our library is practically as big as Watford's and better stocked. If you wanted to find something dangerous in there, I'm sure you could.
I think he just gets like this sometimes. Like he needs to pull away. I think of it like winter. During winter, it isn't that the sun is gone (or cheating on you with another planet). You can still see it in the sky. It's just farther away.
Tonight it was enough to be one of them. To be someplace where he always had a spot at the table, where everybody already knew that he didn't like olives on his pizza, and they always looked happy to see him. When Lincoln realized he was rewriting the theme song to Cheers, he decided to stop thinking and just play.