Every day, everyone is a hundred different people: who they are when they are alone and feeling fuckable, who they are when they are alone and feeling unfuckable, who they are when they are grief wrecked, when they are joy smacked. There’s the sobbing woman who pulls herself together for her husband, her children. She sinks like an anvil into the part, until she is the part. The other hers disappear, phased-out software.
