. . . Companions Were To Be

She Doesn't Know I Cry For The Changing Times. That Just As I Reread Favourite Books, Some Small Part Of Me Hoping For A Different Ending, I Find Myself Hoping Against Hope That The War Will Never Come. That This Time, Somehow, It Will Leave Us Be.

He Had The Vague Sense Of Standing On A Threshold, The Crossing Of Which Would Change Everything.

Gerry?' Laurel Had To Strain To Hear Thought The Noise On The Other End Of The Line. 'gerry? Where Are You?' 'london. A Phone Booth On Fleet Street.' 'the City Still Has Working Phone Booths?' 'it Would Appear So. Unless This Is The Tardis, In Which Case I'm In Serious Trouble.

The Girl In The Mirror Caught My Eye Briefly...it Is An Uncanny Feeling, That Rare Occasion When One Catches A Glimpse Of Oneself In Repose. An Unguarded Moment, Stripped Of Artifice, When One Forgets To Fool Even Oneself.

It Was The Sibling Thing, I Suppose. I Was Fascinated By The Intricate Tangle Of Love And Duty And Resentment That Tied Them Together. The Glances They Exchanged; The Complicated Balance Of Power Established Over Decades; The Games I Would Never Play With Rules I Would Never Fully Understand. And Perhaps That Was Key: They Were Such A Natural Group That They Made Me Feel Remarkably Singular By Comparison. To Watch Them Together Was To Know Strongly, Painfully, All That I'd Been Missing.