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The first helicopter ride of Matt’s life and he couldn’t tell if the floating in his gut was from being airborne or the surrealness of the day.
And soon he’d have to take away almost everything that his older brother had left in this world.
My grandpa, before he got sick, he said that movies are the poetry of our time.”
It was something better, in Keller’s estimation: a boss who valued results, not face time. One who didn’t steal credit, didn’t play favorites, and didn’t micromanage. He was direct and played it straight. If you fucked up, he’d tell you. But you knew he’d always have your back.
He felt as he did in certain parts of New York—safe enough, but on alert.
His appetite was gone. Eating, like other ordinary things, seemed so trivial now. But he couldn’t keep running on only despair.
In the far corner was a group of young women, loud and rowdy and the epitome of Ugly Americans.
“It’s kindness,” Matt said. “Studies prove that doing five random acts of kindness a day leads to more happiness. But it has to be five, for some reason. I forget why.”
“She’d probably tell you to go for the boy who wants to be part of your story, not just you being part of his.”
These men who loved to tell women to stop being so emotional were in fact the ones who let their emotions control them.
Why was it, he wondered, that we do that? Rosy up memories and make them idealized versions of what really happened.
Once you lived in Greenwich Village, it was hard to go back. That was why every New Yorker comes across insufferably superior.
He never tried to tell her how to feel, always validated her emotions, which was weirdly comforting.
