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This was what lovers did in 2019, they coolly investigated each other. No more subtle gleaning, no more telling your backstory in your own time. Privacy was a setting now, not a human right.
‘There’s a reason “Melia” gets shortened to “Me”,’ Clare said, later, on a cold morning in Edinburgh. ‘It’s because she’s a complete narcissist.’ But I’m getting ahead of myself.
friendships born of convenience were as flimsy as the pages of our Metros.
You lied to me, Jamie. Why should I believe another word you say?
‘People attracted by the rumour that someone else is in danger, they end up creating it for themselves.’ He had no idea.
(‘When did we lose the art of conversation?’ I asked Clare once. ‘When Instagram told ordinary people their lives were extraordinary,’
It’s clear now that Melia counted on my compliance, my cowardice, my lack of imagination. I followed her breadcrumb trail like a middle-aged Hansel, into the lair of a wide-eyed, open-legged witch.