“The table between them is the size of an ocean. She smiles an impersonal smile and Hugo smiles back, just as impersonally. It stings. She thinks of the person she was when he knew her, when she, Hugo and August were a trio. She conjures an image of the three of them in winter jackets, boots, scarves and hats, with library books in tote bags and laptops weighing down messenger bags and backpacks, and she can picture their silhouettes so clearly it's as if they're shuffling past outside the window, somewhere in between the fluttering lights. Then they disappear, engulfed by the lights, the people they once were, dissolved.”
Book:The Trio