And then it happens. Something that has never happened to me before. All my life, I’ve been able to control my responses to stress and threats. I have a very slick internal switch, or handle, that glides smoothly into gear whenever I feel the fight-or-flight instinct arrive. I recognize the feeling, and I respond to it with elegance and cool. But in this moment, where the unthinkable has happened and two heavily compartmentalized parts of my life have collided in this tiny, claustrophobic space, with evidence of a third compartment on Tara’s phone, one person has to be removed from this
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