I would have done anything for him. Maybe that was my sickness. We made love in nothing places and turned the lights off. It felt like crying. We could not look at each other. It always had to be from behind. Like that first time. And I knew he wasn't thinking of me. He squeezed my sides so hard, and pushed so hard. Like he was trying to push me through to somewhere else. Why does anyone ever make love?

Succotash my Balzac, dipshiitake.

Why didn't he say goodbye? I gave myself a bruise. Why didn't he say 'I love you'?

I saw Herschel and he saw me and we stood next to each other because that is what friends do in the presence of evil or love.

I want an infinitely blank book and the rest of time.

...because he had been waiting for someone to come back to him, so every time someone knocked on the door, he couldn't stop himself from hoping it might be that person, even though he knew he shouldn't hope.

Sometimes people who seem good end up being not as good as you might have hoped, you know?