An unfinished jigsaw of a human. Incomplete living and incomplete dying.
‘So why am I not dead? Why has death not come to me? I gave it an open invitation. I’d wanted to die.
But here I am, still existing. I am still aware of things.’
‘Well, if it’s any comfort, you are very possibly about to die.
People who pass by the library usually don’t stay long, one way or the other.’
When she thought about it – and increasingly she had been thinking about it –
Nora was only able to think of herself in terms of the things she wasn’t.
The things she hadn’t been able to become. And there really were quite a lot of things she hadn’t become.
The regrets which were on permanent repeat in her mind.
I haven’t become an Olympic swimmer. I haven’t become a glaciologist.
I haven’t become Dan’s wife. I haven’t become a mother.
I haven’t become the lead singer of The Labyrinths.
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