It was not smoothed over.

And the not-smoothing was not my revenge.

It was simply the world, for once, working the way it is supposed to.

I make the distinction between revenge and justice deliberately, because it is one I had to work out for myself in those weeks, watching a woman I despised lose everything she valued, and finding, to my own faint surprise, that I did not enjoy it the way I had expected to.

Revenge is a hunger.