The Girl on the Train

Hollowness: that I understand. I’m starting to believe that there isn’t anything you can do to fix it. That’s what I’ve taken from the therapy sessions: the holes in your life are permanent. You have to grow around them, like tree roots around concrete; you mould yourself through the gaps.

Life is not a paragraph, and death is no parenthesis.

I wonder whether they are there, whether he knows, whether he’s left, or whether he’s still living a life he’s yet to discover is a lie

If I saw that woman now, if I saw Jess, I would spit in her face. I would scratch her eyes out.

I wanted it to be a surprise, so I had to check his work schedule secretly, I had to look

On the way back down the road, he passes me in his car, our eyes meet for just a second and he smiles at me

may know me better than I think he does.

Either that or look around for something to distract you.

That’ll put an end to it.

He flashes me his wide, Tom Cruise smile, and then he’s gone, and it’s just me and her and the baby.