Cuddling was for great aunts and teddy bears. Cuddling gave him cramp.

If she does have a failing, and it's obviously only a tiny one, it's that she doesn't seem particularly curious about other people, or me, anyway.

…and you smile back and try not to think about the fact that you have nothing, absolutely nothing, to say to each other.

Maybe we've grown out of each other.

Do you miss her?' 'Who? Emma? Of course. Every day. She was my best friend.

These days grief seems like walking on a frozen river; most of the time he feels safe enough, but there is always that danger that he will plunge through.

No, friends were like clothes: fine while they lasted but eventually they wore thin or you grew out of them.