Every storm brings with it hope that somehow by morning everything will be made clean again, and even the most troubling stains would have disappeared like the doubts over his innocents, or the consequence of his mistake, like the scars of his betrayal or the memory of his kiss. So we wait for the storm to pass, hoping for the best even though we know in our hearts some stains are so indelible nothing can wash them away.

Desperate Housewives