[Their love] had burned itself out, like a forgotten candle in an empty room, leaving behind a ravenous discontent.

The scene was set. All that was required was an action, a cold start, instant and brutal as beginnings always are.

She hadn't chosen him over all the others. The truth was that she hadn't even thought about anyone else.

She emptied herself of Fabio and of herself, of all the useless efforts she had made to get where she was and find nothing there. With detached curiosity she observed the rebirth of her weaknesses, her obsessions. This time she would let them decide, since she hadn't been able to do anything anyway. Against certain parts of yourself you remain powerless, she said to herself, as she regressed pleasurably to the time when she was a girl.

...finally her hands, so light, holding his head still and catching all his thoughts and imprisoning them there, in the space that no longer existed between them.

The love of those we don't love in return settles on the surface and from there quickly evaporates.

Separating them were two layers of brick, a few inches of plaster, and nine years of silence.