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344 pages, Kindle Edition
Published March 5, 2026
Since meeting the woman in the supermarket, Zivoin had felt that same curious feeling. A strange sort of impatience –a powerful instinctive recoil from the agony of waiting. He knew he had to speak to her again. After their meeting that day, he’d become convinced a fork in the road had opened up: a life with her, and one without her. It felt urgent. He found her radiant, but the shock of her beauty would fade eventually. He didn’t know how he would ever explain this to her, but it was the earnestness with which she’d picked up and examined each vegetable that had moved him. She was so unwilling to let a stranger walk away with something as inconsequential as an imperfect potato, he could only imagine the kind of love she reserved for the people in her life. He wanted to be one of them. Once again, the situation felt out of his hands.
How does it happen so quickly? How does a stranger move from the periphery to the centre so fast there is no time to prepare any cushioning in case things break along the way? It doesn’t make sense – but then, a lot of things in life don’t make sense even after they’ve been explained. Fax machines. Vinyl. Whatever goes on inside a caterpillar’s cocoon. The fact that the stars we see in the sky are mostly gone, their dying light crawling its way towards us from the future. The length of time it takes to fall in love. None of these things should operate the way they do, but they do. And, yes, there were steps that were supposed to happen. Conversations about Thatcher, about life’s biggest fears, about what kind of holidays are best and what a typical Sunday looks like. There were meant to be family introductions, first arguments, sweaty nights in bed, questions about the future, yes, all of that. But the thing is, sometimes all it takes is a few hours. That’s just the way it goes.