I saw him staring at me. Not glancing but blatantly staring. And I wondered if he was staring at the wreckage he created or if maybe, just maybe, he regretted hurting me in the first place.
The best moments in reading are when you come across something, a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things that you’d thought special, particular to you. And here it is, set down by someone else, a person you’ve never met, maybe even someone long dead. And it’s as if a hand has come out and taken yours.
