“But you know, right?” “Know what?” “Know it’s not what you were meant for.” Jules taps the space between her breasts. “In here.” “Well, sweetie,” her mother says, with no fucking idea what she’s on about, “what were you meant for?” “I’m not saying it that way.” “What way?” “The way you’re saying it.” “Then how’re you saying it?” “I’m just trying to say I don’t understand why I don’t feel the way other people seem to feel.” “About what?” “About everything. Anything.”
