Sublime

“He is easier to grow than a carrot,” she remarked.

Sadie felt a swelling of love and of worry for him—what was the difference in the end?

“She’s nice, but she’s no Sadie. I don’t feel like anyone in the world knows me except Sadie.” “Maybe you need to let more people know you.” “Maybe.”

She imagined a backyard for Sam, and a yellow dog of indeterminate lineage from the shelter, and walk-in closets, and laundry done sans quarters and in the privacy of her own home, and no one living above them or below them.

jettisoned

To be in love when the outcome is uncertain is an exquisite kind of agony.