Her naked legs look translucent in the blue lit car.

I relax against the seat and turn towards her and although we are not touching it is like we are linked. Particles sticking together by no other bond than vibrating on the same frequency.

when I’m old and my wife dies I don’t want the person I know best in the world, the person I keep alive by knowing her so well, I don’t want that to be Gabrielle.’

The sun beats me sweaty on Jubilee Bridge and the breeze is invigorating.

Her voice is actually not normal at all. It’s devoid, set for anti-communication. The voice version of a poker face.

My heart felt brittle, like the slightest pressure would crack it, so I decided to go out and not think about difficult things.

shorts, toasted two slices of bread and chewed each bite the recommended thirty-two times. The ritualism of these tasks calmed me and when I left the flat, my breath reached all the way down to my stomach.

And honestly even in misty morning greylight, London was the love of my life. The vastness, the speed, the smell of Chinatown dim sum.

I wish I could mute her. I wish I could rewind her.