Her mother pours capfuls of liquid over both of Vera’s knees, the heels of her hands, her elbows. It hurts every time, a raw, immediate kind of pain that makes her suck air through her teeth. The hurt carves a deep valley into Vera’s heart because it’s braided together with Daphne’s attention, Daphne’s gentleness, Daphne’s care. Maybe, Vera thinks, this is just what love is like.
