The place was a familiar as breath but as far from his life now as the moon.

It's funny how things seem different, suddenly.

A moment was not a single moment at all, but rather an infinite number of different moments, depending on who was seeing things and how.

She saw herself moving through another life, an exotic, difficult, satisfying life.

In some deep place in her heart, Caroline had kept alive the silly romantic notion that somehow David Henry had once known her as no one else ever could. But it was not true. He had never even glimpsed her.

He had handed his daughter to Caroline Gill and that act had led him here, years later, to this girl in motion of her own, this girl who had decided yes, a brief moment of release in the back of a car, in the room of a silent house, this girl who had stood up later, adjusting her clothes, with now knowledge of how that moment was already shaping her life.

A moment might be a thousand different things.