Now, as she made her way up West Broadway, beneath the thrum of anxiety, wasn’t there something else? Something dark and glittering. Why did doing the wrong thing sometimes feel right? There was a tingle to breaking the rules, to doing the thing you shouldn’t do—like driving too fast, going home with a stranger, fighting when you should back down. There was an energy in that space, an electricity, an aliveness she didn’t feel when she was doing all the things she did as a good mom, a good wife, a good daughter.
