Through all the muck of themselves, the times they had unobligated each other, the anger, the permitted absences, the loneliness grown dangerous, she had always returned to him. He’d had faith in that – abracadabra! But eventually the deadlines set in again. Could you live in the dead excellence of a thing – the stupid mortar of a body, the stubborn husk love had crawled from? Yes, he thought.
-Lorrie Moore
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