“When my mother died, I sort of felt her inside me sometimes,’ I say. ‘Like I’d swallowed her.’ He laughs. ‘Swallowed her.’ ‘I still have moments when I feel that, when it feels like she’s inside me, and there’s no difference between us or that the difference doesn’t matter.”

“When my mother died, I sort of felt her inside me sometimes,’ I say. ‘Like I’d swallowed her.’ He laughs. ‘Swallowed her.’ ‘I still have moments when I feel that, when it feels like she’s inside me, and there’s no difference between us or that the difference doesn’t matter.”

— Lily King