It isn't fair the way memory twists up the things it shows you.

It’s strange how easy it was, once we tried, to just spend time being broken together.

There’s nothing the dead can tell you that the living can’t,” he’d said to me. “World is indifferent to your feelings. World has no responsibility and no reasons why a serial killer can randomly create orphans and then disappear, and no antipathy for assholes who get drunk and kill, then go free a couple of years later. You gotta look for joy, not reasons and explanations.

It’s the way people look at you when they know you’re damaged, but don’t know how to react to knowing a thing like that.