No one belongs here more than you: stories

They wordlessly excused each other for not loving each other as much as they had planned to. There were empty rooms in the house where they had meant to put their love, and they worked together to fill these rooms with midcentury modern furniture. Herman Miller, George Nelson, Charles and Ray Eames. They were never alone; it became crowded.

was a small thing, but it was a thing, and things have a way of either dying or growing, and it wasn’t dying. Years went by. This thing grew, like a child, microscopically, every day. And since they were a team, and all teams want to win, they continuously adjusted their vision to keep its growth invisible.

And it was so tremendous to see that smile, I could feel myself glowing, I somehow felt beautiful, and cut

When you can see the beauty of a tree, then you will know what love is.

On the eighth day of the rest of my life, I began to wonder if this was really the rest of my life or just a continuation of the same one.

First it is heartbreaking, and I start to cry. But crying is a habit

Life is easy. What I meant was, Life is easy with you here, and when you leave, it will be hard again.

. If he saw me, I would live. Look up, look up, look up. He raised his eyes, as if it were his own idea, and I waved.

What happens when you stop wanting, when you are happy.

My book was a long glove clasping the dark shape I had loved.