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Stella’s never been to London. She doesn’t quite know why she’s put it there, in the last place. Does anyone ever end up going to their final choice? Stella doubts it.
That’s the thing about gardening, there’s always something to do, you’re only ever just catching up with yourself.
The moments that affect you are only ever the ones you’re not expecting.
He hears the pleasure in her voice and it gives him a falling sensation in his stomach.
It seems odd to her, this transformation. Two minutes ago they were wine glasses and now they are slivers of clear glass, to be wrapped and wadded in newspaper and thrown away.
It’s not that you can’t bear the fact that he knows. It’s that you think you need to be punished for something you weren’t punished for—something I made sure you weren’t punished for.”
