I put my phone in my pocket and ran home, because if I didn’t get home quickly I was going to cry in public. I gave myself fifteen minutes. I bawled my eyes out. Face in my pillow. The kind of sobs that make your chest hurt. In a way I was relieved, really, that the tears had finally come. Maybe it was more like twenty minutes. But then I stitched up the hole that ripped open when these things happened. That scar always healed in an ugly way but it was tough. I got up and splashed my face with cold water to try and look less like a puffy mess. It didn’t do anything. I was just a puffy mess
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