It’s unhealthy to stay cooped up in this house. It’s time to move on, get your life back in order.” My Gran came around the counter and put her coffee cup in the dishwasher. I leaned against the kitchen sink, gripping my container of brownie batter ice cream, and prepared myself for more. My reflection stared back at me in the hall mirror. I took a quick inventory; Gran was right. My curly shoulder-length blond hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail with a bright pink scrunchie; my favorite pink pajama bottoms and black tank top hung looser than a month ago. I knew I didn’t look presentable, but the only destination on my agenda was the living room couch with my new best friend Ben’s Ice Cream, to watch a far-from-realistic love story on Lifetime. Not only did Ben not care how I dressed but he wholeheartedly agreed that love never lasts like in the movies. He knew, as I did, that life just doesn’t work that way. “I know, Gran,” I said, rolling my eyes. How many times was I going to have to hear that I needed to start living again?
