Am I making excuses for a man I don’t really know at all?
But I’ve learned the hard way: love and trust are two very different things.
I get home late that night. I waited until sundown to even go into town. Sitting in the car on the outskirts, watching farmers drive their wares in and out of the little village.
Once dark fell, I ventured in, did what I needed to do with my hood up and my head down, and got out.
After the confrontation with the cartel men, I’ve been on high alert. The fewer people who see me, the better.
Driving home after dark means I have to take the road back up the mountain slowly, too. I kill the headlights and drive carefully, flicking them on to get my bearings before extinguishing them again.
Just in case anyone is watching. Looking for signs of life, a trail
