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The part of their marriage that had dissolved was the part where he told her she was beautiful; it was the part where they held hands at dinner or had a drink together in front of the fire. It was the part where, when she said she had something to talk to him about, he turned off the TV instead of merely muting it. The part of their marriage that had dissolved was the breathlessness of moments like this one.
The molten glass on the end of her pipe, that hot, pulsing, living thing, that organ she controlled and expanded with only her breath—that was his heart.
every good Catholic knew there were only three reasons to go to church in the middle of the afternoon: wedding, funeral, confession.
Satisfaction was not to be gained from finishing the task; satisfaction was to be gained from the process.
Could all these thoughts be contained in a single kiss? It seemed impossible, but yes.
It wasn’t about doing the right thing so much as being seen doing the right thing.
