"Are you lovers?'Excuse me?'Do you mind my asking you?'Yes.'It's off the record.'Then why do you need to know?'Daniel Moore smiled. A large, happy smile.'Because I would like to ask you to dinner."

"Who is the other woman whose photograph I do not have? If my mother was the first in my life, she was the last: my lover and my downfall, my hope and my despair. Her photographs I burned in an ashtray, one at a time - some might say to be rid of the evidence. Her name was Theresa Aden: Theresa like the saint; Aden like Eden, complete with snake."

"You kissed me.' I tear my eyes away from the mirror to face her. We are close, so close standing here. My lungs might be carved out of granite, cast from bronze, the way they refuse to expand, to fill with air.'You kissed me back,' says Kat softly.I nod. There's nothing more to say."

"When you told me I didn't love youI simply thought how would you knowFor I remembered the spaces between your fingersAnd the crease between your eyesHow dare you tell meI never thought of you as mine."