“I don't know what to do,” Molly sobbed into her palms as she sat close — but not too close — to you on a fine evening.

She was falling out of love with Dutch and falling in love with you — and it scared her. But she couldn't tell you it was, well, you.

“I love him,” she hiccuped, eye makeup running and leaving stains. “I love him, I do. But— I, I think I love this other person, too.”