“They read. The sounds of paper between them as they turn and crease and carefully avoid touching each other.”

“I put my hands flat on the papers, breathing in, holding on. He touched these too.I turned through the papers, looking at each page. And in that cold metal aisle, alone, I wanted him. I wanted his hands at my back and his lips speaking poems on mine and our journey to each other to be completed, the miles between us consumed and all distance closed.”

“And then, at night, the lit lamp and the drawn curtain, with the flutter of the turned page and soft scrape of pen on paper the only sounds to break the silence between quarter- and quarter-chime.”

“Two men who had never seen each other before and would not likely see each other again. But their sincerity and sweetness, their sharing an instant in a fleeting life. It was almost as if a secret had passed between them. Was this some kind of love? I wanted to follow them, to touch them, to tell them of my happiness. I wanted to whisper to them: 'This is it. This is it'".”

“Individual words, sounds, squiggles on paper with no meanings other than those with which our imagination can clothe them.”

“Neither one of them could turn off their feelings, even with so much time and distance between them. The more they were apart, and the more they weren't allowed to be together, the more they loved each other.”