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Summary
Christine remembers the circus the way you remember something that happened to someone else, distant and vivid all at once, like a photograph of a life she's not entirely sure was hers. She remembers a girl with red hair and steady hands who was kind to her in a place that had no business containing kindness. She thinks about her sometimes. Wonders where she ended up. Whether she ever thinks about her too.
She doesn't connect it. Not to the woman at the bar with the guarded smile and the one dark eye and the infuriating ability to make Christine feel like the most wanted and most disposable person in the room simultaneously.
Christine can’t help but love both of them.
She doesn't know yet that she only ever loved one.