My head was level with hers as we stared at each other from opposite sides of the glass. I don't remember how it ended - if I went to bed or she did. In my memory, it doesn't end. We just stay there, looking at each other, forever.

She was loved deeply, but not widely

Last words are always harder to remember when no one knows that someone's about to die.

I have never really thought of him as a person, either.... A guy whose strings were broken, who didn’t feel the root of his leaves of grass connected to the field, a guy who was cracked. Like me.

I could stand up and go to her and kiss her. I could. But there is still too much to be ruined.

Pain is like fabric: The stronger it is, the more it’s worth.

Half-drunk on well-creamed gas station coffee and the exhilarating loneliness of a freeway in nighttime.