“The man was more highly strung than Margaret Thatcher on the rag, God rest her.”

“If I was into girls, I'd do you,” I tell him honestly. He leans forward conspiratorially. ”Psst, I'll let you in on a secret Fred,” he glances sheepishly from side to side. ”I actually have a cock. Don't tell anyone, it would ruin my reputation. But feel free to do me any time you want.”

“What was it about my obsession with romance that always made me feel embarrassed? Like it was a silly, girlish thing to obsess about. In reality, it was what we all wanted, right?”

“Sometimes you can be so deeply wrapped up in a person that the only way to deal with it is to use cruelty to push them away.”

“You know,” he says, voice still low.“I have had nothing but trouble since you walked into my life.” “I’d walk straight back out of it if only you’d let me.”

“Could you bring me to Rita’s house before we go to the airport?” I ask. “There’s one last thing I need to ask her to do.” “That is on the other side of the river,” says Ethan.“I know. But I need to see her. Please, I’ll be eternally grateful.” He doesn’t say anything, but instead puts the car in gear and starts the engine. After we are driving for about two minutes he asks. “How grateful?” Ah, I see the old Ethan hasn’t disappeared then. I smile and lean over to place a light peck on his cheek. “This grateful,” I say to him.“Hmm, I think you can do better than that,” he chides in good humor.“You’re driving,” is all I say in reply.“I can pull over,” he answers smartly.”

“He’s sitting casually at my kitchen table peeling the skin off an applewith a pocket knife, a red apple that he has quite obviously appropriated from my fruit bowl, might I add.”

“Will you promise to keep this to yourself, to not tell anyone of what we are?” By his words you’d think he was giving me a choice. Like I could say,no deal, honey bunch, I’m off to shout your secret from the rooftops, and he’d be like, oh no please don’t do that. Inreality, he’d have to kill me.”

“I’d practically groped her under the guise of helping her get out a stain, but still, she looked like she found me about as appealing as second-hand underpants.”

“The man was more highly strung than Margaret Thatcher on the rag, God rest her.”

“So why not live with the magic? Be a kid again and believe in the fantastical. Life is more fun with a little smoke and mirrors.”