Miller knew he could be loved again. He had known it since he started to feel better about himself a year ago. He would stand in front of the mirror in the old newsroom bathroom and smile at himself. He would practice making small talk and being charming and engaging without the whiskey lubricant. He flossed. He payed attention to the exact color of eyes. He did not mock movies with love affair stares.
He went to a sweat lodge ceremony with a fellow AA buddy after he got sober and he saw visions in the tents. He saw a woman take her arms and wrap them around him. He saw his grandmother's old quilts around her shoulders, around her breasts. She had long hair and she was smiling. He knew it but he never thought it would be now.