Cracking Spines

“I have an idea,” she said. “Let’s be twenty-five and pretend we know everything about love and relationships. It’ll be fun because no one our age is able to talk about love anymore. It’s too genuine or something. We can make gingerbread cookies while we do it. I’ll go first. ‘Love is fine, but really it’s just like a vitamin, a supplement, that might make you healthier and happier and more energetic, but really you don’t need it.’”
“‘Love is a piano, and then people in a relationship are each a hand playing the piano. And it’s really easy to play ugly, disharmonious nonsense, and really difficult to put a coherent song together.’”
“Ooh, Mr. Writer,” Rachel said. “That was pretty good. My turn again. ‘Love wins Best Picture at the Academy Awards. Yeah, it’s good, but usually it’s probably more hyped up than it should be.’”
“You hate love,” I said.
“Well, you know, when you’re as worldly and wise as me, you will too.”
“Of course,” I said.