I reach out and take his hand. His fingers slide between mine. I can't breathe.

I know that change is difficult, and comes slowly, and that it is the work of many days strung together in a long line until the origin of them is forgotten.

I might be in love with you." He smiles a little. "I'm waiting until I'm sure to tell you, though.

I am afraid of her, afraid of what she says-and thrilled by it too, because it means I don't have to accept that I am smaller than I once believed.

I will be my undoing If I become my obsession.

My problem might be that even if I did go home, I wouldn’t belong there, among people who give without thinking and care without trying.

How strange that something so simple could have been instrumental in my decision to ruin one of my most relationships and friendships, and damage another.