The boy she knew– the one who was her competition in potions, the quidditch-obsessed school bully that she saw cry in a school hallway, he was a figment of her imagination. The man she’d come to know, the one that bought her a bracelet, liked to read Greek poetry and was  sometimes an asshole, he was a stranger. A complex, twisted pile of emotions to sort through. Like tangled necklaces from a jewelry box. Frustratingly complicated. Do you throw them away, buy new jewelry? Take the time to extract each piece, one by one? 