I missed & hated her for 7 years. When I finally saw her she was neither as miserable as I’d hoped when she left nor as ebullient as I pictured when I felt grownup and forgiving, which was practically never. Her hair is shorter, a good cut, and her eyes are tired behind concealer. She says she has her own business & just sold her house. I drop my mug. She spills her coffee. I wish when I closed a book I could set it on the shelf and know it was really over.