Life is made up of a series of moments, each one a journey to the end.
Then she says, ‘I love you.’ Like three drops of blood falling onto snow.
All I know is that I have two choices – stay wrapped in blankets and get on with dying, or get the list back together and get on with living.
I miss him as soon as he goes. When he isn't with me, I think I made him up.
I shrug him off. 'Can't you just go away?" There's a moment. It has a sound in it, as if something very small got broken.
It was strange how words meant something when they came out of your mouth. Inside your head they were safe and silent, but once they were outside, people grabbed hold of them.