Mischling by Affinity Konar

28664920– How can it be possible that we remain so curious to the end, so intent on knowing and experiencing even as we are dying? –

– Touch – it had grown so complicated and strange. The curl-pulling was a gesture I’d been familiar with all my life, or at least in the parts of my life where boys sat behind me in school, but this tease felt different. It carried a pleasant thrill, and I knew this was the closet I might ever come to an affectionate touch from a boy. But the fact that this could be my last thrill – it undid me. –

– I don’t believe in talking to the dead – if you talk to the dead here, it’s not long before you stop speaking your true language, whatever it may be. So I wrote him a note instead. –

– “No one’s looking back.” He laughed bitterly. “The whole world will never look back. And if they do, they’ll probably say that it never really happened.”

– People wrote where they were going, where they’d been, who they were looking for. They wrote who they had been but were careful not to write who they had become. –

– These trains we never should have trusted again, they appeared to be our only way home. –

– I was put in that cage because I loved too much. –


Review for Sunday Times: http://bit.ly/2p090ZH


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