“we match,” I say, and as soon as the words are out I already know that tomorrow will come and I will remember this moment and wince. We match?? And so, even through this drunken haze, I feel relief when he doesn’t laugh at me. Instead he squeezes me a little tighter, brings me a tiny bit closer so my edges are against his edges, and it’s all warm. Our bodies fit. I secretly sniff him, and get rewarded with his fresh lemony scent”

“Right. So what don't get is why everyone is mad at me, instead of realising that I am the one who has been wronged here. Not a single person has come up to me and said,"I'm really sorry this happened to you." Not one person.”

“And now that I've been exposed to this feeling, perfect mouth against perfect mouth, the natural order of things, I wonder why people don't kiss all day, every day. How does anything ever get done?”

“I realize we all walk around pretending we have some control over our fate, because to recognize the truth--that no matter what we do, the bottom will fall out when we least expect it--is just too unbearable to live with.”

“I think that's what people do with the holidays. They wrap it up all neatly with a turkey and clever gifts and lots of eggnog and laugh and laugh, but at the end of the day there are always people missing from the table. And you have to either sit with those empty chairs and laugh, or you can choose not to come to the table at all. I would rather come to the table.”

“Because if I'm going to spend at least seventy-five percent of my waking hours doing something, I want that something to have meaning. I am tired of wasting my time. I am starting to realize that I want my life to matter in every way that it can.”

“So strange that David Drucker of all people was the only one who said the exact right thing: Your dad shouldn't have died. That's really unfair.”

“You look beautiful even when you cry. I mean, not that you don’t look beautiful when you’re happy. Of course, you’re beautiful all the time. But out there in the snow, you were stunning.”

“We don’t talk on the ride home. We don’t have to. I feel warm and giddy and like I have a secret that I want to keep all to myself. David Drucker, who is so many different people all at once: the guy who always sits alone, the guy who talked quantum physics even in my dad’s dental chair, the guy who held my hand in the snow. I kissed David Drucker, the guy I most like to talk to, and it was perfect.”

“I also have a list of favorite noises. It has one item on it: Kit's laugh.”

“we match,” I say, and as soon as the words are out I already know that tomorrow will come and I will remember this moment and wince. We match?? And so, even through this drunken haze, I feel relief when he doesn’t laugh at me. Instead he squeezes me a little tighter, brings me a tiny bit closer so my edges are against his edges, and it’s all warm. Our bodies fit. I secretly sniff him, and get rewarded with his fresh lemony scent”