Chocolat - Pg 29

I have become so accustomed to Pantoufle--and to the rest of the strange menagerie that she trails in her bright wake--that at such times I can almost see him clearly, Pantoufle with his gray-whiskered face and wise eyes, the world suddenly brightening as if by a strange transference I have become Anouk, seeing with her eyes, following where she travels. At such times I feel I could die for love of her, my little stranger, my heart swelling dangerously so that the only release is to run too, my red coat flapping around my shoulders like wings, my hair a comet's tail in the patchy blue sky.