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  • mollydumbleton

Telepathy Is the Sixth Stage of Grief, by Jane Pen

"We look at each other. I would guess that he’s in his mid-forties, like me, the upward inclines of our lives starting to level off at an altitude so much lower than what we once thought it would be—but which, now that we’re here, is easy enough to accept: all the things we’ll never be, never do. He watches me with a kindness that makes me want to ask if he has children. If he can tell me what it is to be a good father; if it’s not too late."


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