You don’t know when you’re twenty-three. You don’t know what it really means to crawl into someone else’s life and stay there.
Seth, it’s seven o’clock.” Nine in Omaha. Or maybe 1998 in Omaha.
This isn’t like me. I don’t feel like myself. The old me thought she would always prevail because she was always right. I’d like some of that confidence back now. Even if it did come with a heaping helping of ignorance.
Georgie grabbed a Zima then poured it into a cup so she wouldn’t look like she was drinking Zima.
I had this idea about America – that I’d find myself here. That’s why people get in a convertible and hit the road without a map. That’s the promise. That you’ll finally see yourself when you don’t recognize the scenery. Maybe it worked. I fell for the blue sky and sunshine. Then this country dragged me behind it, kicking and bleeding. I failed every test. I fell; I fell short.
He leaned his forehead against the mirror and closed his eyes. It was embarrassing to see himself smile like that.
Yesterday happens.
I don’t want to go back any further. I don’t want to miss any of the rest.
Things didn’t go bad between Georgie and Neal. Things were always bad – and always good. Their marriage was like a set of scales constantly balancing itself. And then, at some point, when neither of them was paying attention, they’d tipped so far over into bad, they’d settled there. Now only an enormous amount of good would shift them back. An impossible amount of good.
I like to work late because I don’t like to work early – and I have to work sometime.
At the end of the day – after work, after trying to spend some sort of meaningful time with Alice and Noomi – Georgie was usually too tired to make things right with Neal before they fell asleep. So things stayed wrong.
He wondered if people who worked nights went on dates during the day.
Tell me about it, he said. Tell me why you’re so unhappy. It’s just everything. There are too many people. And I don’t fit in. I don’t know how to be. Nothing that I’m good at it is sort of thing that matters there.
Sometimes she felt like she was walking a fine line, precarious line between the two of them. Like there wasn’t enough of her to be who she needed to be for them both.
I just can’t believe that life would give us to each other and then take it back.
What’s the point of becoming a vampire,” Snow says, “if you’re not planning to hurt anybody?
Maybe there’s no such thing as enough.
She didn’t have words for what Levi was. He was a cave painting. He was The Red Balloon.
I love you so much. Too much. I feel like it’s going to spin me off my axis.
Too late,” Cath said. “And you’re not my only friend.” “I know – ” Reagan rolled her eyes and waved a hand in the air. “ – you’ve got the whole Internet.