“It's often suggested that as a culture, we're only interested in immediate gratification. Fast food. Self-checkout. Downloadable music, movies, books. Instant coffee, instant rebates, instant messaging. Instant weight loss! Shall I go on?”

“I like instant gratification. It’s like instant coffee, only it won’t keep you up all night.”

“Some people are finicky about going to the theater alone, but I’m not. Because when the lights go down, the only relationship left in the room is the one between the movie and me.”

“I don't understand why things always go from perfect to weird with us. It's like we're incapable of normal human interaction.”

“Because that’s the thing about depression. When I feel it deeply, I don’t want to let it go. It becomes a comfort. I want to cloak myself under its heavy weight and breathe it into my lungs. I want to nurture it, grow it, cultivate it. It’s mine. I want to check out with it, drift asleep wrapped in its arms and not wake up for a long, long time.”

“I don't know.  I don't really like old movies.  The acting is so, 'Hey buddy, ol' pal.  Let's go wear our hats and have a big misunderstanding”

“That guys. Sideburns. You like him?"My back squirms. "You've asked me that before.""What I meant was," he says, flustered. "Your feelings haven't changed? Since you've been here?"It takes a moment to consider the question. "It's not a matter of how I feel," I say at last. "I'm interested, but ... I don't know if he's still interested in me."St. Clair edges closer. "Does he still call?""Yeah. I mean, not often. But yes.""Right. Right, well," he says, blinking. "There's your answer.”