Last night replayed in my mind. I had told her that I loved her. She never said the words back to me. Fear worked itself in my stomach. Maybe she realized she could never forgive me for what I had done. And so she left me. Panic tore into me. I tugged on my shoes, shrugged into my jacket, wincing slightly. The gunshot wound had healed as if several months had passed, but it still felt a little tender. I would go after her and get down on my knees if she wanted. I raced out the door, chanting her name. Inez. Inez. Inez.
