There had been a man who wanted a thing that was exciting and free, and a woman who wanted a life that was mine, and the moment either of those wants came with a price tag, both of them dropped the other without a backward glance.

I watched it happen and I felt the last of my heartbreak simply close its accounts and go home.

You cannot mourn a love that turns out to have been this cheap.

I had tortured myself, on the drive to Farah’s, imagining the depth of what they’d shared.

There was no depth.

There was a shallow, greedy thing that couldn’t survive its first encounter with a consequence, and I had nearly let it convince me it was worth more than my whole life.