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I know without a doubt that I’d rather wait several more hours in this ridiculous weather than get in the car with him.
It’s just that he’s a man in the first place. I may not be the smartest or most intuitive person in a given room, but I know enough to know women are rarely safe in rooms alone with men. Or cars, in this case.
He thinks I’m just a woman—a helpless, defenseless woman. Sometimes, I think that’s our best weapon. Let them think we’re weak until we have to prove otherwise.
“Are you really so stubborn you’d let yourself die out here just to avoid getting in the car with me?” “Better so stubborn than so stupid I get in the car with a stranger and end up dead.”
Something about this whole scenario is too good to be true. No one is this nice.
It’s not like you get a do-over for these years. You don’t get the time back…being
I can’t be sixty and decide to abandon my family because what I’d like more than anything else is to finally take some desperately needed alone time.”
In death, everyone becomes a hero. Otherworldly. The dead become something of myths and legends, even when everyone knows the truth.
I will make it my life’s mission to remember him for the bad.
It’s a superpower, in a way. Looking innocent when you’re anything but.
You’re too happy. Too trusting.”
“Because you’ve been allowed to be. For women, for me, it’s better to be bitter, jaded, and alive than too trusting and dead.”
His blood will soak into the mud, the dirt, the soil, and anything left of his body will nourish the plants and the animals. It’ll be the one selfless thing he’s ever done.
