“But while you were doing it, he looked at me, and the look on his face – I still cannot describe it, other than in that moment, I felt something crumble inside me, like a tower of damp sand built too high: for him, and for you, and for me as well. And in his face, I knew my own would be echoed.”

“But while you were doing it, he looked at me, and the look on his face – I still cannot describe it, other than in that moment, I felt something crumble inside me, like a tower of damp sand built too high: for him, and for you, and for me as well. And in his face, I knew my own would be echoed.”

— Hanya Yanagihara