“Time. Aching like a bruise, pounding like a heart. ”
“Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me.”
“It felt like there was a dark spot in my heart. Like a bruise. And it was getting deeper and wider with every lie I told.”
“A brave heart? It feels like a swollen and aching thing in my chest.”
“Charity liked brandy. She liked the way it burned her throat while soothing the ache in her heart.”
“He walked towards me. My heart was pounding like a nineties warehouse rave.”