That’s so 800 seasons ago. I’m in a red-hot love affair with my clothes now. Here, I have impeccable taste. I wish they’d write more on that than my ol’ boring chestnuts.” Stella Rhodes __________________________________________________ THE LAND CRUISER SMOOTHLY NAVIGATES the road to the airport. I hate what I’m feeling. The lump in my throat won’t go away and that pressure in my chest…shit. These are feelings that are alien to me now that’s why they’re so piercing. The more I fight it, the more it feels like a sadist is making little cuts all over me, punishing me. I want to cry. There. I admit it. I want to sob my heart out. Scream to the heavens. It’s been a long time since I last cried. Since I wasted my tears on someone. On a man in particular. I don’t want to feel this, to waste a single tear for him. What for? And why? I’ve known him for two days. Two days! Three. Today doesn’t count. Today, you’re about to cry for him. It counts. A lot. I groan and rest my head on the backseat, closing my eyes, massaging my temple.
