I was in my mid 20s when email finally took off. Until then, the phone was my primary way of connecting with the people in my life.
But he kept finding new pockets of shallow inside himself. He kept finding new ways to betray her.
People tend to pair off that way, Cath thought, in matched sets.
Wasn’t hitting bottom the thing you had to do to knock some sense into yourself? Wasn’t hitting bottom the thing that showed you which way was up?
Nothing was dirty. With Park. Nothing could be shameful. Because Park was the sun, and that was the only way Eleanor could think to explain it.
Or maybe, he thought now, he just didn't recognize all those other girls. The way a computer drive will spit out a disk if it doesn't recognize the formatting. When he touched Eleanor's hand, he recognized her. He knew.
(Because being assaulted with maxi pads is a great way to win friends and influence people.)
Eggnog reminds me of mucus." "Me, too. But in a good way.
I take something that happened to me in 1983, and I make it happen to somebody else in 1943. I pick my life apart that way, try to understand it better by writing straight through it.