Part of what I'm trying to do with this novel is instill a want of particular notion for the reader. I want any future reader to want one certain thing between characters and when I read the draft whole I can't remember if I accomplished that or not. Probably not (yet), but I was so focused on other things I can't remember all of what I needed to observe.
What I do know, now, is that my feelings are hurt and I'm about to pour a Sapphire ginger and clean my loft and think about and think about and think about LPT. Because nothing much comes of a semi-messy apartment, a badly behaved best and an unfinished novel that--in its current state--breaks my heart.