After this short afternoon she loved him; Violet loved him. She didn't like him in the least. In fact, in the few minutes he sat with her, everything he did seemed to bother her, but she loved him.
They spent more and more time together--on the very bench they met at. They would talk, Violet would cry, usually, and every afternoon ended with Violet's confusion as to why Jack was sitting next to her. She would yell, and he would leave.
Jack soon came to love Violet. He loved every piece of madness and confusion she brought to that bench in the afternoon. He loved her. He didn't know what he loved, though, because only hardly was she the same.
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