“So everything we believe about happiness is wrong," I said.He nodded.Everything?" I asked, when what I meant was, Everything? Including you? Including me?And Marcus, being Marcus, knew what I really wanted to know, and answered my silent, more significant question. He held up his hand to shield the rays and looked me in the eyes.Almost.”

“I read your poem," I croaked. "'Fall.'"Then something I never thought would happen, happened: Marcus Flutie was shocked by something I said."You did?" he said. "I thought you lost it!""Well someone found it for me. Where do you get off saying," I lowered my voice, "we'll be naked without shame in paradise?"He didn't open his mouth."I know what that means, you know. Who do you think I am?"He didn't open his mouth."We are never going to be naked without shame in paradise."He didn't open his mouth."We're NEVER going to have sex," I whispered, clearly over-stating my case.He didn't open his mouth. The mouth that used to bite mine."And I'm just going to forget about that biting thing from the other night," I said.He looked at me right in the eyes. If he'd focused hard enough on my pupils, he could've seen his own reflection, his own face smirking at me."You couldn't forget if you tried," he said, before walking away.He's right. And I don't know if I hate him or love him for that.”

“Marcus Flutie slept with just about every girl on the Eastern Seaboard except me. Though, he tried to get into my panties when I was a freshman but turned him down because I refuse to disempower myself just for a few clit twitches.”

“I thought Marcus was going to be in my life forever. Then I thought I was wrong. Now he’s back. But this time I know what’s certain: Marcus will be gone again, and back again and again and again because nothing is permanent. Especially people. Strangers become friends. Friends become lovers. Lovers become strangers. Strangers become friends once more, and over and over. Tomorrow, next week, fifty years from now, I know I’ll get another one-word postcard from Marcus, because this one doesn’t have a period signifying the end of the sentence.Or the end of anything at all.”

“I love when I reach Marcus on the phone and as he says hello, I can hear the music he's listening to in the background. That music is the sound of him without me. How he surrounds himself when I'm not there, which is almost all the time.”

“You called me a natural con artist and asked me what other secrets I was hiding. I didn't answer because I already knew, in some deep, primal way, what furtive truth you were referring to: That I was destined to fall in love with you.”

“She mailed me a Merry Christmas-I'm-Breaking-Up-with-You card. I'll read it to you," he said. He cleared his throat. "Dear Marcus. Merry Christmas. I'm breaking up with you. Mia.”