Conversations with Friends

by Sally Rooney

Probably nothing of import will happen in my life again and I’ll just have to sweep things up until I die.

God, I’m sorry, that’s so embarrassing. I liked him saying that even more than I liked the sex itself.

Oh, you know. She was nice. I didn’t dream about her at night.

It was okay to cry because nobody could see me, and I would never tell anyone about it.

I didn’t know why I couldn’t enjoy things like other people did.

The idea of forgetting anything about you is kind of horrifying to me.