She came back to me at 10.01 the next morning, a mirror time, as I'd expected.

Things which had at first felt like signs, if I analysed them for too long, ended up feeling like the movements of my own reflection in dark glass.

I don't know, I can't know, but I almost did.

But I do not know the people I am crying for anymore. I don't let myself sympathise—I think it would be wrong.

Instantly I remembered everything I hated about him. But it was, in a way, comforting to know that he had not changed at all.

Man had such impenetrable means to stop the outside world from coming in, and so little to stop our inside world from surging out, wrestling any foreign object into submission.