Conversations with Friends

by Sally Rooney

I found this idea too intense to think about, like the glare of a bare lightbulb.

It’s weird knowing someone just casually, he said, and then later finding out they’re observing things all the time. It’s like, God, what has this person noticed about me?

Her hands were large and sallow, not at all like mine. They were full of the practicality I lacked, and my hand fit into them like something that needed fixing.

His drunkenness made me feel unclean.

You can love more than one person, she said. That’s arguable. Why is it any different from having more than one friend? You’re friends with me and you also have other friends, does that mean you don’t really value me?

the big warm plane of it, like something that could grow from the earth.

I was tired and very weak, but these were also peaceful feelings in their own way.

I felt blissfully tired, like each cell in my body was winding down into a deep private sleep of its own.

I was smiling. My eyes were closed still. It felt good to be wrong about everything.