“I thought Oliver was trying hard before, but now I realize it's quite the opposite-- he doesn't try, he just is, makes up his mind and doesn't check if it's going to work for his image or come off wrong. Since the rest of us are being so self-aware, his presence seems calculated. No one can possibly be that breezy, saying what he thinks, feeling what he feels. I can see why people don't like him for this very reason-- it's so much easier to call him a poser.Because if he's the real deal, then that makes the rest of us fakes.”

“I don't know if I've ever really touched him. Maybe once or twice when passing papers back. You know, even shorter, his hair looks so soft. Maybe it's time I rub it a little. So I can give more concrete details.I stretch my hand across my desk, but stop when I realize the horror of what I was about to do. Pet Sean. Have I lost my mind?”

“He said focus. The word focus. I hear angels singing. Everything goes dark except for a light that beams down on Sean. It is a God-given sign- like when people see the Virgin Mary in their grilled cheese, except this isn't religious and I'm actually not a big fan of dairy. I stare at the back of his head. His HEAD. Something I see every day but never really see because it's been there forever. Since the first day of third grade.I crumple up my web. I don't need it. Praise be, the Focus Gods have spoken.I am going to write about Sean Griswold's Head.”

“He loops his arm over my shoulder and we watch the waves in silence. We've had so many silences between us these last few months, bitter ones, loaded ones, empty ones, and hurtful ones. This one is perfect. It says things that words can't.”

“And so he did his endless work,' I continued quietly, 'without feeling, without pity, without rest, for to open his heart to these would be to open his heart to his loneliness and longing and that was beyond bearing.”

“They just change. Their body changes. Their abilities - the things they do that make them who they are - leave, sometimes temporarily, sometimes forever. Every day they wake up with that big what if?And nothing is scarier than a life filled with what ifs - living by day without predictability and control. Some people end up losing feeling. Some have uncontrollable spasms. Some can't function. Some end up blind or in a wheelchair. Some end up bedridden and paralyzed.It's hard to know who "some people" will be.”

“When will you be returning?""Not as soon as I'd like to. I'm going to have to waste a couple days finding an....acceptable...wife."Her eyes widened. "You're going to France to get married?"He didn't answer immediately; he was in fact giving her such a thoughtful look that it began to make her distinctly uncomfortable.But he finally answered, "Not a'tall. While that might delight my mother, I think even she would prefer an English daughter-in-law. Fortunately, I'm in no hurry to delight her. It's not a real wife I need, just a woman to play the role for a few days.""A fake wife?"He smiled enigmatically. "Exactly.""Whatever for?""If you're offering to play the part, we can discuss it further. Otherwise, it's none of your business."She snorted and had to wrestle with her curiosity a bit before she could tell him, "Real or fake, I find marriage to you so detestable that my answer isn't just no,it's a resounding no.”