A MAN STRIKES A MATCH and starts a fire in the house of love. A woman takes a pill to make herself bleed. Or maybe it’s gin and horses, or a plane ticket to a place that makes you think of summer, where every day might be a holiday—at least from the life that you’ve been living. What continues to surprise me, and what I still don’t understand, is not the reasons that love ends but the way that it endures.
