“How you feeling honey?” “I’m ok… a bit achy and sore” moving my hand to my cheek and wincing as the pain throbs through my head. “Note...to self, duck!” I say giggling but stop when I feel Craig’s hands tighten against my waist. The car ride home become a little quiet and tense afterwards. I try to get everyone to chat while pressing my hand against Craig’s chest almost as a comforting measure. “How did I come to care so much? I’ve only known him what 6-7 hours. Am I a slut like Martin said?. My next-door neighbor, for instance, fits the latter category. He and his girlfriend – and I know she’s a “girlfriend” and not a “wife” because she told me while I struggled to get her damn lawnmower started while he was deployed – are fairly nice though a little suspicious of an older guy like me living next door. “Older” is relative, as I’m in my late 30s opposed to their mid-20s. Still, I don’t think I’ll be invited to any of their late-night backyard bashes, the kind that result in multiple. More

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