It shattered something inside me that hadn't been broken before.

Then he pulled out a handgun and shot me in the chest. I was standing on the lawn and I fell. The bullet hole opened wide and my heart rolled out of my rib cage and down into a flower bed. Blood gushed rhythmically from my open wound,
then from my eyes,
my ears,
my mouth.
It tasted like salt and failure. The bright red shame of being unloved soaked the grass in front of our house, the bricks of the path, the steps of the porch. My heart spasmed among the peonies like a trout.

It's not objective. It's subjective.” Katya hooks her bra behind her back. “It's just what you think, not the truth.

Better than chocolate, being with you last night. Silly me, I thought that nothing was better than chocolate.

Someone once wrote that a novel should deliver a series of small astonishments. I get the same thing spending an hour with you.

He was contemplation and enthusiasm. Ambition and strong coffee. I could have looked at him forever.