Paul Quotes in Dark Roots
Call it what you like, we think it’s love, but it’s chemical.
“You’re not a smoker, are you?”
“No.”
“Only because if you were, at your age, I’d never be prescribing this brand.”
And you feel that little swoop again, hear the at your age like stepping on a sharp piece of gravel, a wince at ludicrous defensiveness.
“If he were thirty-nine and you were thirteen years younger nobody would turn a hair. I say go for it.”
Once upon a time you would have said, confidently: show me someone who says they’ve never had a fantasy of being the Older Woman, and I’ll show you a liar.
“And Jesus, will you just relax and stop worrying about your weight? How much reassurance do you need?”
“I don’t need reassurance.”
“Yes, you do. It’s so bloody tiring. It’s like you’ve already decided to end it and you’re just waiting for me to slip up so you can blame me.”
You’d opened and closed your mouth like a stunned fish. A wave of nausea. You’d clenched your jaw, saying nothing. Don’t cry, you’d ordered yourself., don’t you dare. Mascara running haggard. Lines. Ugly. Old.
“I’ll be forty in a fortnight,” you say.
Impossible to gauge his real, unadorned reaction to that news. You’ll have to turn the light on for that.
Paul Quotes in Dark Roots
Call it what you like, we think it’s love, but it’s chemical.
“You’re not a smoker, are you?”
“No.”
“Only because if you were, at your age, I’d never be prescribing this brand.”
And you feel that little swoop again, hear the at your age like stepping on a sharp piece of gravel, a wince at ludicrous defensiveness.
“If he were thirty-nine and you were thirteen years younger nobody would turn a hair. I say go for it.”
Once upon a time you would have said, confidently: show me someone who says they’ve never had a fantasy of being the Older Woman, and I’ll show you a liar.
“And Jesus, will you just relax and stop worrying about your weight? How much reassurance do you need?”
“I don’t need reassurance.”
“Yes, you do. It’s so bloody tiring. It’s like you’ve already decided to end it and you’re just waiting for me to slip up so you can blame me.”
You’d opened and closed your mouth like a stunned fish. A wave of nausea. You’d clenched your jaw, saying nothing. Don’t cry, you’d ordered yourself., don’t you dare. Mascara running haggard. Lines. Ugly. Old.
“I’ll be forty in a fortnight,” you say.
Impossible to gauge his real, unadorned reaction to that news. You’ll have to turn the light on for that.
