He wished he had some kind of X-ray vision for the human heart.
It's funny how things seem different, suddenly.
It's good to be in love.
Once, this whole world had been hidden beneath a shallow sea.
This was her life. Not the life she had once dreamed of, not a life her younger self would ever have imagined or desired, but the life she was living, with all its complexities. This was her life, built with care and attention, and it was good.
The thing is, I used to like that: feeling special because I knew something no one else did. It's a kind of power, isn't it, knowing a secret? But lately I don't like it so much, knowing this. It's not really mine to know, is it?