What is that fern, or desert palm, at the top of Gloria’s right shoulder? Is it the shadow of tufts of her hair, dramatically sticking out in a way we can’t imagine in two dimensions? Her earring? Or is it the weekend she spent with a sweet boy, too sweet, last year in Palm Springs, back when she wasn’t sure she could keep doing this, the loneliness of Tuesday nights, the angry telephones, the whispering mirrors, and had wanted to believe in something good?⠀