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It would all come together. Everything would come together.
And Piglet was running, speeding, from one life to another. She was in the margins of her decisions, inhabiting the space in between. It felt oddly lonely, she noticed—or spacious, maybe—when there was enough room to spread out.
She had plumbed the depths of this shallow life they had constructed and found there was nothing left to do but leave it.
What did she want, she wondered afresh, and did it matter, as long as she could choose?
