"You threw out your notebooks, which freed up some space for fuel. Those days we were looking either for fuel or for places to store it."
A trio of lines that implies some sort of post-apocalyptic setting maybe? A shorter short story--only four paragraphs long--"Journey's End" still hits hard with some fantastic sentences:
"I began to fantasize what might happen if we discovered glowing cubes and cracked them open to find blistering stuff of the universe within."
"I found a cooler of urine buoying rotten cans, their metal bowed out, contents sunk in a haze at the bottom."
"We marveled; they had freed delicate glass from metal and filled each bulb, soldered to reattach, and affixed in place."
"You remembered your father obtaining a wood-boring drill-bit set; after he died, you found that every book in his house had been ventilated and the trees out back as well."
"I hooked up the generator and didn't immediately die."
"I wanted to break the screen and employ the services of its glass on my face but you warned me to be careful after all we had been through."
and ends with a killer: "You were thoughtful like that."
Me typing that could possibly ruin the story for you, but I don't think so. Every time I re-read an Amelia Gray story I catch little things I had missed on the previous reading. This one, which I've enjoyed four times in the past few days, is no different. The Los Angeles Review of Books has a conversation between two more of my favorite authors: Robert Lopez and Peter Markus. In it, they mention another friend, Andrew Richmond, saying "people doing people things" frequently. And that is what happens in Gray's stories, no matter how surreal the setting might be--people doing people things in as interesting a way as possible.