Sweetheart, we’ll get through this

There’s a memory I recall when I need a reminder that I can handle life. I’m 24 years old, standing in a bathroom no bigger than a linen closet, staring at my bloodshot eyes in a mirror. I’m at work, crying over a breakup I was sure I’d never survive, trying to pull myself together to go back into my office. I’m a bookkeeper at a construction company and my desk is in the owner’s renovated garage. He’s not the warmest guy in the world and I know I need to suck it up and get back to work, but I f...