She wanted to laugh off Miranda’s gushing “I love yous” and “special connections” but at the same time she wanted desperately to believe in them. Despite herself she liked Miranda’s high-pitched reactions, the way she poured it all out so openly. It reminded her of a painting she had once seen through the window of an art gallery in Dallas, layers of pink and ranges of corals and roses that were globbed onto the canvas in thick streaks, growing darker until, in the middle, they formed a gash of raw-heart red.
