Love hadn’t seemed like the right word, the right idea. You loved your parents, you loved your dog, you loved the sun on your shoulders, you loved the taste of chocolate and the smell of rain. This was something else. A sense of sacrament. Her love for him, her absolute confidence in that love, where had it come from? It was faith, that’s all. Visceral, stupid. The instinct that you shared some essential element of your composition with this person, whom you had only just met, spent only a few hours in conversation. Yet there it was.
