My pace quickened even as the brush thickened. Brambles tore at my clothes and skin as I crashed along overgrown deer trails. So it's over. Seven years to get here. I punched dead branches out of my way, cutting my hands and arms.
Love turns to such a vile anger.
If she wants to go, she can go. My parents were divorced. Her parents were divorced. They all remarried people who had been divorced. All the guys I know are divorced.