Clare takes a mouthful, swallows it in a businesslike fashion, and says, Well, that’s not so bad.”
That’s a twenty-something-dollar bottle of wine.”
Running is many things to me: survival, calmness, euphoria, solitude. It is proof of my corporeal existence, my ability to control my movement through space if not time, and the obedience, however temporary, of my body to my will.
That’s what I love you for: your inability to perceive all my hideous flaws.
My family isn’t posh; they’re musicians.