How She Got Here

“Don’t cry, you can cry when you get home,” she kept telling herself as she drove home. She glanced down at the GPS, still 185 miles to go before she pulled in her driveway and could finally breakdown how she had planned to. She sat the cruise control to 86 MPH, weaving in and out of the traffic. The music blared in the car, vibrating the windshield and steering wheel. She did everything she could to not focus on the rage and heartache she felt in her soul. She kept replaying everything from the last five months in her head. How could someone that seemed so genuine be so bad? He wanted her, he approached her… was it all just a game for him? He swept her off of her feet, promised her the world, then dropped her with no explanation. She kept rerouting her train of thought. Don’t think of him right now. Keep driving. She looked down at the GPS again, 126 miles to go. She pulled off on the next exit into a gas station. She turned off the car and was surrounded by silence for what seemed like the first time in hours since she had left North Carolina. The blood rushed to her face, her chin quivered, and her breathing became shallow. Tears began to rush from the corners of her eyes. She felt it all. Every lie. Every hope. She wiped her face, looked at her eyes in the rear view mirror. It’s okay, you’re going to be okay.