October 6, 2020:
She's angry, because her heart is broke, and she feels what happened to her is unjust. So that now she's come to a far-away city, to flee from the scene of her hurt and, in that all-very-human way, inflict it on someone else, as if causing pain to others works like tossing a ball, where whoever has it has it, and those who don't don't.
I'm the recipient, not because she's angry at me but because I happen to be available. I'm generous, helpful, addicted, lonely: the perfect storm of vulnerability. So that the minute there's a misunderstanding she's out the veritable door, a gesture of rejection which mirrors what happened to her but has nothing specific to do with me.