She kept using the word fireworks.” “Fireworks?” “As in there aren’t any. Between us.” “Ah. I see.” Ruth nodded. “We’ve talked about this before. Haven’t we?” “About fireworks?” “About love. About how we often mistake love for fireworks—for drama and dysfunction. But real love is very quiet, very still. It’s boring, if seen from the perspective of high drama. Love is deep and calm—and constant. I imagine you do give Kathy love—in the true sense of the word.
