“She sits up. I can’t read her expression, but her cheeks look a little pink. “I didn’t think you were going to be here.” “I live here.”

“I think I'll go over and introduce myself to that little red-haired girl. I think I'll introduce myself, and then ask her to come over and sit next to me. I think I'll ask her to sit next to me here, and then I think I'll tell her how much I've always admired her... I think I'll flap my arms, and fly to the moon.”

“You called her a cunt,” I reminded him. “He threw out a hand, his brows shooting up. “Were you not just here? She is a cunt.”This was not debatable. I didn’t even know why I brought it up.”

“Nothing lasts," she says, and there's a little crack in her voice. "You think it's going to. You think, 'Here's something I can hold on to,' but it always slips away.”

“Come home with me. I can’t leave you here like this.” This time her voice cracked.“My angel, you forget, you have to go make Mrs. Grandma her meal.” Blake ran the back of his bandaged hand down Livia’s cheek.“Please. I won’t be able to breathe from worrying about you.” Livia didn’t care how crazy she sounded.“I don’t think that’s prudent. I don’t want you bringing me home like a stray cat.” His defenses were climbing back up. She’d asked too much.“Okay. I’ll see you Monday then?” The words felt like sandpaper on glass. Rough and unwanted.“Yes, sweet Livia. I’ll be here. Have no worries.” He leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.”

“She laughs and looks out the window and I think for a minute that she's going to start to cry. I'm standing by the door and I look over at the Elvis Costello poster, at his eyes, watching her, watching us, and I try to get her away from it, so I tell her to come over here, sit down, and she thinks I want to hug her or something and she comes over to me and puts her arms around my back and says something like 'I think we've all lost some sort of feeling.”