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Shattered energy seemed to pulse from him like sonar. Tight blips of loneliness. Tallie translated the echolocation easily. She was lonesome and blipping, too.
Her brain fizzed. This man wanted to die less than an hour ago, but now he was sitting across from her, careful not to burn his mouth.
The sweetness in her voice inspired a violent tenderness inside him.
He was depressed, and depression wasn’t sexy. She saw so much of it every day that she didn’t have a romanticized idea of it. People died, people were miserable, people gave up. Forgot how important and loved they were. Depression was a vacuum that sucked out everything—leaving nothing behind except the burdening weight of nothingness.
“Tunnel of Love” by Bruce Springsteen is playing. An American bar…even an Irish pub…isn’t an American bar if they don’t play at least one Bruce Springsteen song a day.)
