“He was so good and honest. Why couldn't I love him instead?”
“Damn him. I could love. I had it all inside of me. If he knew so much about me, why couldn't he see that? If I didn't love him, how could it hurt so badly?”
“Why did he have to be so gorgeous? Why did he have to stand so close, and why did I still love him so much? ”
“Maybe under all that guilt and certainty that he couldn't love again, he still wanted me. I would have liked to have found out. But I didn't have the time. Instead, I punched him.”
“Why couldn't it belong to him anymore? Why couldn't he belong to it? Because he gave it up. He held on to himself, and he threw the other things away.”
“Grandpa had a good life, up until the day we slaughtered him and ate him. Honestly, he raised chickens, so he should have seen it coming. ”