“And about a thousand other things," he says, pausing sometimes between his words, making sure he has them right. I get the sense that words are not sufficient tools for him to build what's going on in his head as he stands before me.”

“Where did you go?' His voice drops just slightly and loses even the suggestion of a smile.He's watching me like he's not sure he's allowed to ask question, and he's not even sure he wants the answer. I can almost see grandfather's word and josh's doubt about them swimming in his head. On every side of me are the lights and the tools and the wood and the boots and the boy I want to see forever. And if the my Sea of Tranquility were real, it would be this place, here, with him.I don't say anything right away, because I just want one minute to look at his face before I gave him my last secret. And then I tell him.'Your garage.”

“Jesus, Dolores, you've got to get yourself together. You've got responsibilities. Think about those sometimes - okay? - and get your fucking head right."Those were the last words his wife heard from him. He'd closed the door and walked down the stairs, paused on the last step. He thought of going back. He thought of going back up the stairs and into the apartment and somehow making it right. Or, if not right, at least softer.Softer. That would have been nice.”

“His words make sense. He's not the man for me. This is what he meant, and it makes his rejection to accept... almost. I can live with this. I understand.”

“He read a lot. He used a lot of big words. I think maybe part of what got him into trouble was that he did too much thinking. Sometimes he tried too hard to make sense of the world, to figure out why people were bad to each other so often. A couple of times I tried to tell him it was a mistake to get too deep into that kind of stuff, but Alex got stuck on things. He always had to know the absolute right answer before he could go on to the next thing.”

“His words slow my pulse. His fingers, square and even, feel nonpareil entwined with mine. He is symmetry. He is color."Never," I tell him. "I will never go away.""You're sure about that?""I'm sure I can't live with a Ram-sized hole in my chest.""That would be a pretty big hole, I think," Ram says."Don't be so sure. You're short.""Hey," Ram protests."I worry for you on carnival rides.""I get on carnival rides just fine, thanks.""The operator doesn't stop you?""Tim," He pauses. "Sometimes.”