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walked away. The chances of me being arrested for murder would’ve been high if he came home that night. Stupidly, a part of me wanted him to come and comfort me, or pretend to care that I was hurt beyond repair.
    Thankfully things went down on the Friday before Spring Break, so I had two weeks to get myself together. I didn’t know which way to go, but all of the signs pointed in the direction of the courthouse. Our divorce was finalized two years ago, on my thirtieth birthday. I spent the entire year cooking and eating myself content. However, each time I looked into the mirror, my depression got worse, and when I got unhappier, I ate. The circle of food, depression, and guilt was ongoing.
    When I won the lawsuit, I knew right away what I wanted to do with the money, and I did. Judge me or love me. Anyone that says that they won’t pay for a nice body just simply can’t afford it.
    Ms. Fatrick was retired. My favorite color is black, and my hobbies include dancing, reading, going to the movies, and swimming.
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    I tuned back right in time to hear what the last student had to say. “My name is Angela Porter. I’m eighteen, I’m a cheerleader, and I hope to go to the University of Central Florida. I have two dogs, and my favorite color is blue.”
    â€œGreat.” I stood up. “Thank you all for the wonderful introductions.” I glanced at the clock. I had about a minute left with them. “Our focus this school year will be putting together everything you’ve learned about the English language from kindergarten through last year. We will be doing a lot of writing in this class.” I could hear their young minds shutting down. “Many of you have heard that I’m mean, that I’m hard, and that I give a lot of work. But the truth is that I want you all to succeed in life. I want you to not be worried when you make it to college or into the workforce. I want you to be prepared.”
    I was far from the mean, sexually frustrated, fat woman they thought I would be. “This is going to be a wonderful school year.” I was now a laid back but still sexually frustrated size eight. The bell rang. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Within forty seconds, the classroom was empty and the first day of school was just a memory. I kicked off my heels and erased the chalkboard.
    My classroom door opened and in sauntered Doran, known by the students as Mr. Bess, the new math teacher. Doran was no stranger to me, though. We met at the gym over the summer, and I was delighted that such an attractive brother would be joining this dreary faculty.
    â€œWell, we made it through the first day, Paige.” He smiled.
    â€œBarely,” I joked.
    â€œIt wasn’t so bad.” He smiled again.
    â€œSpeak for yourself,” I said as he lowered himself onto the chair at my desk.
    Doran and I met at The Fitness Stop about a month and a half ago. I was on the Stairmaster when he walked in and struggled to get his machine working. I was tempted to laugh at his frustration, but instead helped him reset the instrument. Side by side we did our cardiovascular exercise and talked. I learned that he was new in the South Florida area, just in from Memphis, Tennessee. When he mentioned being a teacher, we discovered that we’d be working at the same school.
    We exchanged cellular phone numbers for the sole purpose of informing each other if something came up and we couldn’t make it to The Stop. I’d only had to call him twice: once when I had the flu and couldn’t get out of bed, the other time when I had forgotten that my parents would be in town from Minneapolis for the weekend.
    â€œYou sure got out of your classroom in record time.” I continued erasing the board and looked over at the clock. The bell had only rung four minutes ago.
    â€œSixth is my planning period.” He studied me, and his look said more than You’re my workout