I can barely recall how this felt… but I know you didn’t feel like this. You had sharp edges; she is so pliant and yielding. I’m sinking into her, how she lets me lead her on, our mouths joined as though there could be no separating now that we’ve begun this. She strokes up my neck, fingers carding through my beard. You… you used to do that. I need to stop. Stop thinking about you.
I’ve never seen a book describe grief so well
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