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In the old days, when Sam was a child, people could be lost forever, but people were not as easily lost as they once were.
It was summer, and she had already finished reading The Phantom Tollbooth for the second time, which was the only book she’d brought with her that day.
“Sharyn’s calling me to dinner. Can I call you back?”
What kid calls their mom Sharyn?
“Always remember, mine Sadie: life is very long, unless it is not.”
“I think she will notice,” Dong Hyun said. Sam shook his head. What did Dong Hyun know about life?
“Her parents can buy her anything she wants. Why would she want some dumb thing I drew on the back of an envelope?” Sam said. “I suppose,” Dong Hyun said, “because her parents can buy her anything she wants.”
“It took a long time for you to get here, didn’t it?” “The average amount of time,” he said.
“You can watch if you want. I’m going to play until the end of this life.” “That’s a good philosophy,” Anna said.
He wanted Ichigo’s life, a lifetime of endless, immaculate tomorrows, free of mistakes and the evidence of having lived.
A glimmer of a notion of a nothing of a whisper of a figment of an idea.
Sam used to say that Marx was the most fortunate person he had ever met—he was lucky with lovers, in business, in looks, in life. But the longer Sadie knew Marx, the more she thought Sam hadn’t truly understood the nature of Marx’s good fortune. Marx was fortunate because he saw everything as if it were a fortuitous bounty.
