Breaking The Ice Between Us
I stood outside the restaurant for a beat, keys in hand, staring at my car like it was some kind of life raft.
Maybe I was losing it.
Hell, maybe I already had.
But at least for one second, inside that diner, eating greasy fries and pretending I wasn’t a walking disaster—I didn’t feel like I was unraveling.
I took one last breath and slid into the driver’s seat again.
Time to go home.
Whatever the fuck “home” even meant anymore.
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