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.

The windows of number fifteen, reflecting morning sunshine, look like sightless eyes.

I can’t wait for Scott to get home. I need him.

I feel high, almost like I’m tripping, and I couldn’t fake nice if I tried.

dreds of Craig McKenzies in the world, and none of them seems to be mine

He turns away and the train moves on

I grab her from behind, I wind my hand into her long blond hair, I jerk her head backwards, I pull her to the floor and I smash her head against the cool blue tiles

SUNDAY, JULY 14, 2013

race. Aren’t they? Is that Jason? Is that Jess