I had nothing to say to these strangers, whoever or whatever they were.

She missed his nothing. It had felt like something.

There are some things that only other people can do to you.

. . . overcast afternoons when it seemed possible the whole world had run out of things to say.

And how sad it is that the last face someone makes at you is always the face you remember the most.

I sometimes wondered why I even answered the phone, but I guess I always had the hope that it would be someone else, some other way of life calling for me.