And how sad it is that the last face someone makes at you is always the face you remember the most.

There are some things that only other people can do to you.

. . . overcast afternoons when it seemed possible the whole world had run out of things to say.

I sometimes wondered why I even answered the phone, but I guess I always had the hope that it would be someone else, some other way of life calling for me.

It depressed me to think that I might have been looking at another person but seeing only myself.

Will your dad beat me up if I ask for your number?

She wrote it down, smiling, feeling somehow significant and uncomfortable, a nervousness that stiffened her face.