The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue

gossamer

It would be an unconventional life, and perhaps a little lonely, but at least it would be hers. She would belong to no one but herself.

It will be many years before she can read Greek, many more before she hears the myth of Sisyphus, but when she does, she will nod in understanding, palms aching from the weight of pushing stones uphill, heart heavy from the weight of watching them roll down again.

Choosing a class became choosing a discipline, and choosing a discipline became choosing a career, and choosing a career became choosing a life, and how was anyone supposed to do that, when you only had one?

Ideas are wilder than memories.

reached the street. He thinks of that before

drew them to their pencils and their paint, this

That time always ends a second before you’re ready. That life is the minutes you want minus one.

They teach you growing up that you are only one thing at a time—angry, lonely, content—but he’s never found that to be true. He is a dozen things at once. He is lost and scared and grateful, he is sorry and happy and afraid.