I plan to learn enough to read you like a book.

It could not always be love in the afternoon and passion in the night, gifts given, notes written, meals fed to each other. It can't all be like that.

This was another item about growing up: you encountered all the cliches of love and loss and heartbreak.

Flannery craved a cigarette. Her nerves were so tense that only nicotine could soothe them, and for the first time, she genuinely understood how the drug worked. It wasn't just a prop or an affectation. It was a tool for mental health.

No wonder you want to be a writer. How can you not, with all that behind you? You practically are a novel already.

Those who are apparently absent can feel more present than the people right in front of you.

I plan to learn enough to read you like a book.