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Kindle Notes & Highlights
She looked at the mug he’d left for her, steam rising from the black liquid. She did not know how to drink this coffee: how to fight and accept care, how to hate and how to love.
What could she say? What sentence would pierce him while leaving her intact?
When she asked herself what was worse—what he had done, or what it would be like for people to know what he had done—she was reassured by her inability to answer.
How to say that she had built a life that relied on the mirrors of others? How to tell Margot that she had carefully crafted her personhood on a lie—and not Kit’s, even, but the fallacy of their bliss, the superficiality and shallowness of it all.
