Moshi-Moshi

Some things are rewarding enough and meaningful enough that as humans, we choose to do them even if in purely financial terms it would be more profitable not to. My sense is that as long as we have bodies, our basic human desires will remain more or less the same.

sometimes love meant not being able to tell. And that it inevitably involved the question of trusting myself to tell sometime, when I could.

People could kill each other, but people could save each other, too.

feel like people imprint on what they experience when they’re young, and then gradually grow into it

But perhaps they held themselves together by acting as though they were happy with their own choices, because they’d fall apart if they didn’t at least aim to be, and it was too uncomfortable to admit that they weren’t.

suspected that people couldn’t always be true to themselves, or live wholly for the proper and acceptable things in their lives

People you can share the little things with are few and far between.

By then, I knew I didn’t want to let him go.

But it wasn’t because I liked him. I just didn’t want to go through losing him. Whether that was love, I couldn’t tell.

When I spotted him, I was momentarily embarrassed to be so wilted, but actually, even that brought back a welcome memory—the feeling you got from someone having come to find you, a sensation you could only remember when you were in love, which made you feel like nothing bad could happen—something I could only describe as peace.

“You look so happy, when you’re at work. I always enjoy seeing it. You just go about things in such a satisfying way—always going straight for the jobs most people would avoid. Actually, I even wondered whether you’d like to come work for us. Not that I’ve come here to headhunt you,” he said, and smiled.

I blushed. He noticed me, I thought. But I could hardly confess that I liked the way he ate, too.