There’s so much to say, but all she has is: “I was really lonely before I met you.” Jane’s silent for a few seconds. August doesn’t look at her, but she knows how the shadows of telephone poles and rooftops slide over the high points of her cheekbones and the soft dips of her mouth. She’s memorized it. She closes her eyes and tries to picture them again, anywhere else. Jane’s hand wraps around hers. “So was I.”
