Still Beating

by Jennifer Hartmann

It was only three weeks, but it’s burned into every cell, every vein, every tainted pocket of my soul. Forever.

It’s funny how home can mean one thing one day and something entirely different the

“You’re a lion, fearless and strong, and I am just a mouse.”

I close my eyes, swallowing down a fresh set of tears. I never used to cry much, but now I feel like it’s all I do.

I want dinner dates and movie nights and homemade breakfasts after long, magical nights of lovemaking. I want to hold hands in public. I want to go on road trips, see the ocean, and laugh until our bellies ache.