by Charlotte Reads Classics
It was inevitable: Yankel fell in love with his never-wife. He would wake from sleep to miss the weight that never depressed the bed next to him, remember in earnest the weight of gestures she never made, long for the un-weight of her un-arm sung over his too real chest … He felt that he had lost her. He had lost her. At night he would reread the letters that she had never written him.
Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything is Illuminated