Everywhere is order laced with uncertainty

I read this sentence last night. A letter from mum. G pointed out the clever use of the word 'laced' as in threaded, but also poisoned. When she does have her head together, she is so brilliant.

Have been thinking about the meeting with the ex. The night started off nostalgic, like the official post-break up talk, yet it felt like the beginning of a romance, not the end. Told G that I saw him because I wanted to be honest, but spared the details because I wanted to be fair to the ex too. That night belongs to us.

I still care about him a lot. The only consolation is that there was nothing wrong with me. He was scared. If I came back to Sydney, it wouldn't change anything. He'd still be scared.