It wasn't right. He knew that, but it was like falling: once you started you couldn't stop until something stopped you.
Grief, it seemed, was a physical place.
No one could suspect the intricate mysteries of her heart.
She didn't love him and he didn't love her; she was like an addiction, and what they were doing had a darkness to it, a weight.
They turned a distracted gaze on the world, wide-eyed, somehow, and questioning.
You can't spend the rest of your life tiptoeing around to try and avert disaster. It won't work. You'll just end up missing the life you have.