Tell No One

by Harlan Coben

Memories, you see, hurt. The good ones most of all.

If someone hurts you, mercy and pity must be put aside. You eliminate the enemy. You scorch the earth.

I have a finer sense of what’s important. I have a keener understanding of people’s pain. There was a time—it’s laughable now—when I used to worry about what clubs I belonged to, what car I drove, what college degree I stuck on my wall—all that status crap. I wanted to be a surgeon because that wowed people. I wanted to impress so-called friends. I wanted to be a big man.

Sex is for anyone; the aftermath is for lovers.

If you could look into the eyes of a file cabinet, this would be what it felt like.