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admiring her gracelessness, her scuffed kneecaps, her scowl.
Frances sniffed the flowers and asked, “Who has died, and what was their purpose, and did they fulfill their potential?”
I suppose Frances asked this more of herself ...
“Who were you?” He wondered how he should put it. “A lump of heartbroken clay.”
Once she said, “I keep trying to march in time but the drummer’s out to get me.”
him, “Well, Malcolm, I’m sorry to break up the party but it looks like I’m in love with you.” He removed a cheese sandwich he’d been secretly carrying in his jacket pocket and ate this in silence. After, they moved through the park. She reached for him, clamping her fingers awkwardly around his wrist. He stopped walking and laced their fingers together. “This is how we’re going to hold hands,” he told her.
Laced fingers, the hallmark of intimate love I've always thought.
Malcolm considered this. He said, “We both have horror-movie names.” The man turned to face Malcolm. “May be,” he said. “But I wouldn’t know because I don’t watch horror movies, because my life is already a horror movie, so what’s the point?”
“I’m calling because I wanted to hear your voice,” he explained. “Here it is,” she said. “Here’s my voice.”
love. I’ve always admired your heart. Your heart is the rightest of all.
the very terrible test of time.
