“His thoughts skirted Sandy and especially Grace as if they were fatal chasms into which he might tumble.”

“But the cracks were splitting, finding power, thickening into chasms.”

“He thought he might say more, but something in her face had closed off, and the opportunity passed.”

“How much easier it would have been if he and Sandy could have fought: a skirmish in the night, some harsh words, some measure of the truth actually spoken aloud.”

“Maybe the idea was that he could write so many letters, deliver so many envelopes back to Sandy, eventually he'd have sent all of himself, and could exist more there than he did here.”

“Behind her leg a shy little girl - Grace - smiling up. "Dad?" It was a kind hope. But his dreams spoke to none of that: when he slept he dreamt of darkness, or of people he did not recognize, or of water closing slowly, almost gratefully, over his head.”

“but it was also something in Sandy herself, an unwillingness to allow anything more to upset the realm of her understanding.”