I’d never felt so exhausted; I felt needles in my eyes when I blinked. Never mind how Marlboro Man’s eyes must have felt after staring into a blazing prairie fire for over four hours. I heard a mama cow moo in the distance. What was she telling me? You were stooooooopid. Go in after him. I wasn’t sure what the right move was; he’d never put me in this position before. He always made the moves; he always flew in and saved the moment. The romantic thing, the right thing, the brave thing would have been for me to follow him into his house. To grab him, to hug him, to embrace him…to say I’m sorry, whether I felt that way or not. Acknowledge that it had been a rough night for both of us. Admit that I’d overreacted. Show him that I’m here for him, no matter what life brings, and that I love him more than anything. That’s what my heart commanded me to do. But my head took over and reminded my heart, which by now was thumping inside me, of the tone of Marlboro Man’s voice moments earlier—the cold, distant, detached “see you later”
