3 Quotes by Danya Kukafka

On his wedding night, Russ thought of Lee Whitley in the way you think of someone dead. Fondly, too fondly, until absence takes this fondness and multiplies it, stretching until it becomes something invasive. Until it swallows you whole.

Lucinda was dead, and the reminder slapped him constantly, freezing ocean waves against his thighs. He could only wade deeper. Deeper, until the truth bubbled into his mouth, salty, miserable. Deeper, until it was pointless to search for shorelines because he knew Lucinda would not be standing on them.

It’s almost funny: you think you matter to someone. They’re the center of your universe, the sun you revolve around. You’d give anything for their details. You inch closer, closer, with tentative steps. You can walk as far as you want, but it won’t matter. You are not even on their map.