teacher. student. sister. photographer. jumbo. girlfriend. friend. daughter. child of God. 2012.
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“leave?” she said. “but we loved her.”
her voice filled the air inside his car, and the pain and sincere bafflement in it sent him to where he had, for so long, tried to avoid going: back to her tiny kitchen table, to her telling him, with that same painful confusion, that he could not leave—how could he leave?—when she loved him.
he realized that this was who she had always been, a person who believed that people who loved each other were different from everyone else, from the world in general, exempt from the usual pressures of time and change, of growing older or of growing up.
- Marisa de los Santos, Falling Together, 189
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