These things sneak up on him for no reason, these flashes of irrational happiness. It's probably a vitamin deficiency. - Margaret Atwood

This has been her problem all her life: picturing other people's responses. She's too good at it. She can picture the response of anyone — other people's reactions, their emotions, their criticisms, their demands — but somehow they don't reciprocate. Maybe they can't. Maybe they lack the gift, if it is one.

Hatred would have been easier. With hatred, I would have known what to do. Hatred is clear, metallic, one-handed, unwavering; unlike love.

Messy love is better than none,
I guess. I am no authority
on sane living.