“You bought me a horse?” “He’s sorta broken.” He bought me a horse. My eyes flit down to the pink skin at the center of the horse’s white nose as emotion wells up in me again, my brain stumbling along, trying to make sense of the last fifteen minutes of my life. I don’t know what to say to his comment, so all I say as I stroke my new horse’s nose is, “That’s okay. So am I.”
