South of the Border, West of the Sun

by Haruki Murakami

But I didn’t understand then. That I could hurt somebody so badly she would never recover. That a person can, just by living, damage another human being beyond repair.

The hands of a clock run in only one direction.

One thing goes wrong, then the whole house of cards collapses. And there’s no way you can extricate yourself. Until someone comes along to drag you out.

I let go of her hand and felt that I was about to drift away somewhere.

Once she got out of the car and was gone, my world was suddenly hollow and meaningless.

“I used to have dreams too, you know. But somewhere along the line they disappeared. Before I met you. I killed them. I crushed them and threw them away. Like some internal organ you no longer need and you rip out of your body.