What if she was broken, she wondered. What if she’d been broken as a teenager and was now incapable of eliciting adoration, affection? What if her heart—or whatever thing existed inside of a person that made them worthy of love—was irrevocably damaged? She could charm strangers, and she could sleep with them, and she could remain cheerfully detached. But what if this was the reason that first dates never led to seconds? That one-night stands never asked for her last name?
