Miranda was washing dishes. Washing dishes. In a house she owned, with a husband she no longer recognized, and a son who only spoke in grunts.
She went inside. She didn't turn on the lights. She sat in the dark, but this time, it didn't feel empty. It felt like a room where something new was allowed to start. and just like that… s01e09 m4p
Carrie looked across the bar. And there he was. Peter. Tall, graying at the temples, wearing a brown corduroy jacket that was either very Brooklyn or very sexy. He was alone, reading a book— actual paper —and sipping bourbon. Miranda was washing dishes