I returned to the ice cream shop, deep in thought. When I’d stood beside Felicity a few minutes ago, I felt like I was looking into a mirror.
She was as aggressive, wild, and lonely as I was. That revelation didn’t come from a place of judgment.
I’d lived through it – was living through it – until Carl shoved me into this realm of what-if’s come to life.
For a brief moment, I’d been jealous of her freedom. She’d snagged a rich, probably handsome, man.
Forged a marriage based on complete disregard of the world’s pressure to be monogamous.
She was partying without the burden of young children and the demands that such small people had on one’s life.
Strangely, as quickly as jealousy appeared, it fled. My eyes cleared and I saw her for who she was.
She was me. I was Felicity. Or I used
