The Sound in the Shell, page 5 of 12

Seen from above, one dry leaf covers the table, its rows of marks crossed through with a single hard scratch, and Pip stands at its edge, level and still.

One leaf, from the first summer, in his earliest hand: The sea always lends.

He read it until the words came apart. She had not said always. She had said only. She had said even to me.

He crossed out always and wrote only, and initialled it.