moore

Every house is a grave, thought Ruth. All that life-stealing fuss and preparation. Which made moving from a house a resurrection—or an exodus of ghouls, depending on your point of view—and made moving to a house (yet another house!) the darkest of follies and desires. At best, it was a restlessness come falsely to rest. But the inevitable rot and demolition, from which the soul eventually had to flee (to live in the sky or disperse itself among the trees?), would necessarily make a person stupid with unhappiness. (191)

To Ruth, it seemed so sad and true, just like life: someone assumed the form of the great love of your life, only to reveal himself later as an alien who had to get on a spaceship and go back to his planet. Certainly it had been true for Terence. Terence had gotten on a spaceship and gone back long ago. Although, of course, in real life you seldom saw the actual spaceship. Usually, there was just a lot of drinking, mumbling, and some passing out in the family room. (200-201)

Moore, Lorrie. "Real Estate." Birds of America. New York: Picador, 1998. 177-211.