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right? All she knew was he hadn’t called and she sure as crap wasn’t going to walk into that wasp’s nest again by calling him. Leave it alone, Elise .
    After she sat her bags on the porch, she twisted the knob of her outside spigot. One of the sharp edges of the cactus plant caught her forearm as she did. She rubbed it rigorously and felt penance for her behavior of the last couple of days. As soon as the water came pouring out, childhood memories of drinking from the hose made her smile. The taste of rubber as it poured into her mouth was as clear as day. The recollection of her mother’s shouts to turn the water off and get inside for dinner stopped the walk down memory lane.
    When all her flowers were sufficiently watered, Elise carried her packages inside and packed for her trip. Noise from the television helped to drown out the sound of loneliness in her house. She wondered how her mother coped with such emptiness all the time. She placed her packed bags by the door and took a shower, falling asleep quickly after and dreaming of Kentucky. Ben laughing with her, tickling her in the hay loft, and kissing her for the last time. She must have placed him in her subconscious the day before, without even realizing it.
    Thursday morning arrived as planned. The sun came up and Elise had managed to survive two days without breaking down and calling Darren. Maybe it was over . The four little words brought about a feeling of despair inside her. She felt the distress over it was deepening the lines on her face. The ones she saw around her eyes when she looked in the mirror this morning. Wasn’t she too young for wrinkles?
    Wasn’t that the goal? To be over? Why then was the refresh button on her phone worn from over-usage? Why was the ice cream still in the freezer and not bloating her stomach from over indulging? Why hadn’t he called? After going from mental rounds of cursing him for not caring, to rounds of emotional break-downs, she labeled it ‘finished’ and pressed through the tears that wanted to show themselves in the reflection of her mirror. Why did mirrors make it so easy to cry? Pity parties worked best when you could see yourself. Because you knew what was really going through your mind.
    She’d wait and have a drink that night. She didn’t want to come home from Kentucky without having dealt with the mourning process. After a good drunkenness, it’d officially be finished. Then, if anything happened to her medically, she’d make sure and tell the paramedics to take her to the hospital in the next city. There would be no way she’d run into Darren, then. With just a few alterations of traveling to a different grocery store and avoiding downtown for about a year, she’d never run into him. At least that’s what she was hoping. In her mind, she had to kill him off this way.
    After what she told herself was the last thought of Darren Masterson, Elise dressed to kill for the day ahead. A new look for the new her. She smoothed on a baby blue skirt suit with a silk blouse and pulled her hair back. Her tanned legs glistened from the shimmery lotion she had slathered on them. The high heels she stepped into completed the ensemble. Starbucks, here she came. Rebound guy, please be there. Well, maybe next week. Although, it was easy to plaster on happiness, it was another thing to wear it believably. Finally, she was ready for the world. Or so she thought.
    Feeling slightly less disheveled than the previous day, Elise approached Janine’s desk. Her assistant’s eyes quickly averted, getting lost in the piles of paper on her organized desk. She covered her mouth and Elise could have sworn she had seen a mischievous smile creep somewhere underneath it.
    “Good morning, Janine. Is everything all right?”
    Her mousy secretary had never done anything more out of the ordinary before. Other than the time she loaded the stapler with purple staples last spring, a complete mark of rebellion against the office manager