Dec 4, 2019
She had seen him everywhere, a phantom, his torso, his hair, his laugh transplanted onto other men... Jennifer’s heart stopped. The room stilled, then titled. She didn’t feel the glass drop from her fingers, was only dimly aware of the crash that echoed through the vast atrium, a brief lull in the conversation, the brisk footsteps of a waiter hurrying toward her to clear it up... And as she stared, the man with the dark hair looked back at her. - The Last Letter from Your Lover, Jojo Moyes
