A few things crash into me at once. Her once long golden hair is chopped short, dusting her shoulders, a subtle wave to each strand. A warm, rosy glow illuminates her skin—now filled out and healthy. But what nails me in the chest with the power of an MMA fighter’s fist is the soft smile curving her pale pink lips. Every curse word to ever enter my mind floods together in one singular, combined word. I’m so screwed.
