He liked the idea of coffee quite a lot—a warm drink that gave you energy and had been for centuries associated with sophisticates and intellectuals. But coffee itself tasted to him like caffeinated stomach bile.

To be human is to catch the falling person.

And I agreed, but still, she owed us an explanation. If she was up there, down there, out there, somewhere, maybe she would laugh.

Hurt tends to drown out sorry.

They like their coffee like they like their ex-boyfriends: bitter.

We don't suffer from a shortage of metaphors . . . But you have to be careful which metaphor you choose, because it matters.

And even though he felt pitiful and ridiculous, he didn't want it to end, because he knew the absence of her would hurt more than any breakup ever could.