“My love is like a crumbly cookie. It’s very hard to give all of it to just one person. Try as I might to give it all to just one woman, crumbs break off here and there in meaningless crushes and kisses and—but what am I saying? Baby, you know you’re the only one I’ve given my cookie to. Can I get you a tall glass of milk?”

“Gee, thanks." I couldn't sound more sarcastic, but I was willing to give it a try. My breathing evened out. "What are you here for, then? Tea and cookies?" My mouth wanted to water. He smelled like cookies. Cinnamon ones, with dabs of apple-pie filling.”

“Do you want a cookie?- What?- A cookie. Like an Oreo. Do you want one?- No.- How can you not want a cookie?- I just don't.- Okay, fine,let's say you did want a cookie. Let's say you were dying for a cookie, and there were cookies in the cupboard. What would you do?- I'd eat a cookie?- Exactly. That's all I'm saying.- What are you saying?- That if people want cookies, they should get a cookie. It's what people do.- Let me guess. Dad won't let you have acookie?- No. Even though I'm practically starving to death, he won't even consider it. He says I have to have a sandwich first.- And you don't think that's fair.- You just said you'd get a cookie if you wanted one. So why can't I? I'm not a little kid. I can make my own decisions.- Hmm. I can see why this bothers you somuch.- It's not fair. If he wants a cookie, he can have one. If you want a cookie,you can have one. But if I want a cookie, the rules don't count. Like yousaid, it's not fair.- So what are you going to do?- I'm going to eat a sandwich. Because I have to. Because the world isn't fairto ten-year-olds.”

“I took a bite of cookie and chewed. “Hmmm,” I said, trying not to spit crumbs. “Clear vanilla notes, too-sweet chocolate chips, distinct flavor of brown sugar. A decent cookie, not spectacular. Still, a good-hearted cookie, not pretentious.” I turned to Fang. “What say you?” “It’s fine.” Some people just don’t have what it takes to appreciate a cookie.”

“Baby? I am not a baby.”“No, I know. It’s…a term of endearment. It’s like ‘honey’ or ‘sweetie’. It just means I love you.”“If you say so, but it is strange, to call the woman you love as a baby. But then, Americans are strange.”

“I am most anxious to give my own children enough love and understanding so that they won't grow up with an aching void in them--like you and I and Harold and Martha. That can never be filled, and one goes around all one's life trying, trying to make up for what one didn't get that was one's birthright, asking the wrong people for it.”