“Letting go of that hope meant letting go of James, which was like letting go of air, toes letting go of nails, and fairly comparable to everyone letting go of electricity in our time. That bad. But in the meantime, this would be a distraction. Purgatory. With drinks and meeting new people, more time to focus on lesson planning and craftwork, art galleries, miniature museums. Anything to keep the thoughts away from drowning the itsy bit of sanity left. She’d even settle for a state of temporary trance.”
Book:Lost in Amber