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“The universe is seeming really huge right now,” he told me. “I need something to hold on to.”
Someone once wrote that a novel should deliver a series of small astonishments. I get the same thing spending an hour with you.
“Do you still miss Gran?” I ask him as we head toward New Clairmont. “Because I miss her. We never talk about her.” “A part of me died,” he says. “And it was the best part.”
We burned not a home, but a symbol. We burned a symbol to the ground.
“We can’t stay much longer,” Johnny says. “It’s getting harder and harder.”