She wondered again about her inclination to wish for things that made her so deeply unhappy.

The dreams weren’t as pleasing when they had no chance of coming true

She was supposed to be putting her life together right now, and all she could seem to do was throw grenades at it.

She was alive, and they were dead. She had to try to make her life big. As big as she could. She promised Bailey she would keep playing.

She must have sensed she never really had him. That was a sadness of hers, he knew.

She wasn’t sure if he wanted more from her or if he wanted less. Maybe it was both. Maybe it was always both.

You hold on to old experiences: injuries, injustices, and great love affairs, too. And you hold them in your joints and your organs, and wear them on your skin.