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he looked oddly formal, as if he was the sole person in serif font.
You can’t trauma-proof life, and you can’t hurt-proof your relationships. You have to accept you will cause harm to yourself and others. But you can also fuck up, really badly, and not learn anything from it except that you fucked up.
Thunder sounded. The big cutlery cupboard in the sky had fallen off the wall.
“Okay,” said my mum philosophically.
Every time I told Graham something—about myself, about my family, about my experience of the world we shared—I was trying to occupy space in his head.
He dreams with the bitter determination of a man who must reach camp before dark.
