Kiss Me Where It Hurts
I slid my back down my door, hugging my knees, and I pep-talked myself.
“You’re used to her. Don’t cry. Don’t break down. You’ve been through worse than this.
Lecturing myself didn’t help much because I sobbed into my palms as I made a pathetic attempt to hush my sounds.
Then the throbbing started, in that familiar place it has always ached.
The moment I reached for my thighs to touch that spot, the buzz of my cellphone in my pocket made me jump.
Goodness! It was just my cell phone.