I didn't know someone could love me like this," she said. "Could love me and love me and love me without...needing space."
Lincoln wasn't asleep. He rolled on top of her.
"There's no air in space," he said.

A landline is an anchor - busy signals, long distance bills, missed connections and all.

My girlfriend is sad and quiet and keeps me up all night worrying about her.

This is new to us, you know? Your mother's sorry. She's sorry that she hurt your feelings, and she wants you to invite your girlfriend over for dinner."
"So that she can make her feel bad and weird?"
"Well she is kind of weird, isn't she?"
Park didn't have the energy to be angry. He sighed and let his head fall back on the chair.
His dad kept talking. "Isn't that why you like her?

You think that holding someone hard will bring them closer. You think that you can hold them so hard that you'll still feel them, embossed on you, when you pull away.
Every time Eleanor pulled away from Park, she felt the gasping loss of him.

Holding Eleanor's hand was like holding a butterfly. Or a heartbeat. Like holding something complete, and completely alive.