A Game of Hearts

by Joanna Barker

I preferred to keep to myself, because making conversation with anyone I did not know well was torture akin to having hot oil poured on me.

I did not want to think. I wanted to escape. I considered going to the stable for my horse, but then I would have to wait for him to be saddled. No, this was better. Me wandering the wind-driven landscape, like some tragic Gothic hero.