In the short term, besides having J stay here (chained to my headboard?), the next best thing I could hope for is to handle this well.
I really wanted to handle it well. I imagined handling it well — with grace, composure, and maturity.
Of course, no one would know I wasn’t handling this well if I didn’t tell them — my veneer is thin, but surprisingly strong. Even though I’m telling you, reader friends, you don’t really get it.
There’s no emoticon for stomping your foot on the ground like a petulant child, balling up your fists, and sobbing about how life isn’t fair.
There should be.