...our Eyes Locked In One Of Those

Our Kiss Was Niticlimactic. It Wasn't That The Kiss Was Bad, But It Was Just A Note Of Punctuation In Our Long Conversation, A Parenthetical Remark Made In Order To Assure Each Other Of A Deeply Felt Agreement, A Mutual Offer Of Companionship, Which Is So Much More Rare Than Sexual Passion Or Even Love.

The Shop Owner Did Not Try To Push The Book On Any Of Her Customers. She Knew That In The Wrong Hands Such A Book Could Easily Be Dismissed, Or, Worse, Go Unread. Instead She Let It Sit Where It Was In The Hope That The Right Reader Might Discover It.

I Take Almost No Notes When I Write. I Have One Notebook - This Old Green Leather Notebook That My Dad Gave Me A Decade Ago.

One Of Us Had Loved The Other More Perfectly, Had Watched The Other More Closely, And One Of Us Listened And The Other Hadn’t, And One Of Us Held On To The Ambition Of The One Idea Far Longer Than Was Reasonable, Whereas The Other, Passing A Garbage Can One Night, Had Casually Thrown It Away.

There Were Many Things They Simply Didn't Talk About: Between Them, Silence Was Not So Much A Form Of Evasion As A Way For Solitary People To Exist In A Family.