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Kindle Notes & Highlights
It smelled like margarine and white bread, like marriage and cramped flats.
Agnes screwed her eyes shut and went back to a place where she felt young and hopeful and wanted.
She would not go back to a life she knew the edges of.
It was a name mothers chose for firstborn sons, the ones that were to be solid and true, mother’s pride but not her joy.
She would love him. This was how her daydreams ran.
“What do you drink when you dinnae drink alcohol?” He looked truly perplexed. It was a general question, not meant just for her. But Agnes took it the other way. “Mostly the tears of my enemies, and when I can’t get that, tea or tap water.”
He had said it not as if they were lovers coming apart but as if he had thought about it and was resigning from a job he hated.
