...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.

She found herself thinking of how it would feel to be safely trapped in his arms, with no more possibility to choose.

She tried to open the bottle, but the top slipped through her fingers without moving. He took the bottle from her hand and opened it with his thumb and index finger. There was nothing special in the gesture and yet she found it strangely fascinating like a small heroic feat performed specially for her.

She was tired, with that tiredness that only emptiness brings.

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

You can fall ill with just a memory.

Even though he was afraid to admit it, when he was with her it seemed it was worth doing all those normal things that normal people do.