A kind of shifting of gravity, a falling into the pull of her orbit.
This young self he was watching felt something real and dangerous and beautiful. A kind of shifting of gravity, a falling into the pull of her orbit. And the fact that she felt the same about him gave him a sense of responsibility, that if he was her world, then he needed to make sure it was a good one. It made him work harder at the shop. He wanted her to be proud. They were fundamentally different people but it had worked. Maggie could float through life, and be happy with whichever direction the wind took her, and somehow land where she needed to be. Wilbur needed a continual focus, a light to head to, a sense that he was working toward a shared future, knowing that he would lose himself into darkness otherwise.
— Matt Haig, The Midnight Train: A Novel (Viking, May 26 , 2026)