The Likeness (Dublin Murder Squad #2)

by Tana French

“Sartre was right,” Rafe said, through his cushion. “Hell is other people.”

You’ve probably noticed”—Daniel smiled faintly, glancing up at me over his glasses—“that I have a tendency to keep myself at some distance from life. I had always felt that I was an observer, never a participant; that I was watching from behind a thick glass wall as people went about the business of living—and did it with such ease, with a skill that they took for granted and that I had never known.

“It’s been very.” “Yeah,” I said. “That it has.”