“Cardboard cutouts of cheerleaders operated by arthritic monkeys would move more fluidly.”

“Hey, let’s give her some space. Get back to the game, guys,” Chris says. Thank God for him, just this once. “And cheerleading. Get back to that, too.” No one moves. “Okay, fuck off, basically, is what I’m saying. Fuck off!”

“I feel the space beside me in a way that knows he's been gone a while. and my chest is winding itself tight with everything that means for me. What does that mean for me. I don't move because I don't want to move. I keep my eyes closed because I don't want to open my eyes.But eventually you have to move.Eventually you have to open your eyes.There's no note.”

“I don't know how I'm going to do this, move through the hours like someone who wants to still be breathing when I had so firmly made up my mind to stop.”

“Waiting around to be saved is like waiting to die and I have done more of both than anyone else in the room.”

“The people feel and look the same, like they've settled here even though they know there's something more-something better-just beyond where they are.Small-town life.”

“I'm struck by how amazing it is and how sad that makes me, because I've never seen that. He's not like that around me. The way his mouth quirks and lights up his eyes. He should smile more often. It's so innocent.”