She’s been dancing with a handsome man who hit on her at the bar, looking as though she’s having the time of her life. Still, she takes one look at my face, and her own crumples with concern. “I’ll come with you!”
“No,” I wave her off, “You stay and have fun, I’ll be back soon!”
I stalk out into the snow, not bothering to retrieve my coat from the coat check. The bracing cold is an utter relief after the writhing heat of the dance floor, and though I chafe my arms against the chill, I welcome the brisk air filling my lungs.
I hate it when this happens, when I’ve been doing so well staying in the present – and then my waking nightmares rise up at the most inopportune moments. I drag a hand through my hair, trying to clear my mind, to get myself back to that happy haze of a little while
