**** Jay ****
My mind is reeling. I can’t focus. She still hasn’t explained anything to me. How am I supposed to know what the problem is? In an effort to wear off some of this overwhelming frustration I head to the gym. My eyes laser in on my goal, the punching bags. I slide on my hand wraps, stretch a bit, and throw myself at that bag like it’s her ex-husband’s face. I pound it until my knuckles bruise, the skin splits, my shoulders ache, and I’m struggling to draw breath.
Still, the throbbing in my fists doesn’t compare to the searing pain in my heart. Part of me always knew she was trouble from the moment I saw her. Too beautiful, too smart, too vulnerable, too good to be true. It felt like we were always living on borrowed time. But I don’t regret a single second.
I should have cha
