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It’s as if Aggie has poured something cool over the boiling, wretched sadness that always burns in her chest, dousing it in one great gush.
but it’s also a little grating for Miranda, who has never really understood how people can be consistently late. Why don’t they just realize they always need to factor in more time?
thinks suddenly of Aggie’s painting in her flat, the one that says, Most people are shit, what are you going to do about it? And she thinks, I’m going to notice all the ones who are doing their very best not to be.
She doesn’t want to wish harm on anybody, but oh, she does wish just a little harm on Richard.
Perhaps this crushed, crumpled man is the real Joseph Carter. She would very much like to meet him.
I don’t want to let her go, because I said I never would, I said I’d never leave her, and she was so afraid I would and I don’t want to. I can’t. I can’t let her go.”
She’s beautiful, and a bit strange, but in the best way, you know?
He thought learning to be happy again, after Siobhan, would be a Herculean effort, but actually it is a string of small victories like this, moments he hardly notices happening until they’ve passed.
Thank God for Miranda for making me talk. Thank God for Jane, for showing me how to love again.