All the places she’s searched for him, she’s been alone. All the windows she’s climbed in, no analogue to greet her. All the phone numbers she’s called, there’s been no answer. Billions of other people walking the street and she cannot find herself to warn her, to tell her.
Don’t let him.
Don’t let him take off the gloves.
Don’t let him close his eyes.
You’ll never see them again.
The Old Jones 
No analogue to greet her… love that line.
LikeLike
Thank you — she’s so desperately lonely.
LikeLike
You have many lonely characters, Jones. That’s one of the things I identify as part of your characters.
LikeLike
They might all be lonely.
LikeLike
Sigh. I knew you were gonna say that.
LikeLike
I know. It’s an ache. It’s the biggest ache. The hardest one to touch.
LikeLike
Yes, I know. That ache catches me all the time. Working. Talking on the phone. Driving. Reminds me of a place I was, am not anymore. But the dream is still there. It never goes away. I think the dream is the ache, and the ache the dream. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
LikeLike
I want to hold it in my fists. It’s like cold fire.
LikeLike