"A note, who writes a note like that? Who were you to write one to me? It boomed inside me the whole time, an explosion over and over, the joy of what you wrote to me jumpy shrapnel in my bloodstream. I can’t have it near me anymore, I’m grenading it back to you, as soon as I unfold it and read it and cry one more time. Because me too, and fuck you. Even now."
— Minerva, writing to her ex about a treasured note from him that she must now discard, in Daniel Handler’s Why We Broke Up. The note was one line long: “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
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