“He'd become so accustomed to having her there, right there next to him, that he found he could no longer go the day without needing to see her. Even the space of a few hours made him feel restless and dissatisfied.”

“She could no longer see herself without him somewhere in her life, & there was no one she could even imagine being her 1st besides him.”

“God, she wanted this. Wanted him. He made her feel wanted, needed. He lit fires inside her she hadn’t known could burn so fierce, in places she didn’t even know existed. Nothing in life could ever make her feel this complete, this whole. He was as much a part of her as her own soul.”

“She needed him to be him. Even if he could not be hers.”

“He was making her feel small and absurdly petulant and, worse yet, she suspected he was right. She always suspected he was right. For a brief irrational moment, she wished she could walk away from him. Then she wished, more rationally, that she could love him without needing him. Need gave him power without his trying; need was the choicelessness she often felt around him.”

“And she loved a man who was made out of nothing. A few hours without him and right away she’d be missing him with her whole body, sitting in her office surrounded by polyethylene and concrete and thinking of him. And every time she’d boil water for coffee in her ground-floor office, she’d let the steam cover her face, imagining it was him stroking her cheeks, her eyelids and she’d wait for the day to be over, so she could go to her apartment building, climb the flight of stairs, turn the key in the door, and find him waiting for her, naked and still between the sheets of her empty bed.”