My heart races, clinging tightly to the things in my hands for some sense of grounding in reality. Hurting myself with my shoes and bag only remind me I was running away to save my sanity. I shouldn’t have stopped.

But like a fool, I am here staring at him, holding my breath and waiting … endlessly.

Tick, tick, tick.

A new kind of agony.

“I love you.” He says it huskily, softly, with less conviction, more haste and apparent fear. Three little words that steal ...