“
He’d read something recently that talked about how love was like a volcano. Erupting in a surge of lust and addiction, making them slaves to the object of their desire. But when that surge subsided, as it inevitably did, the decision of whether or not a relationship could be sustained had to be made. The man had said that the truest form of love was only possible if the roots of the individuals were woven so tightly together that separation became inconceivable. When the adrenaline of being in love had burned away, love itself was what was left over.
”
”