I made it to exit twenty-two and I made the phone call. I kicked my boots off as I tore into the driveway dropped my bag and keys at the door and I walked toward someone that wasn't me. I told my head to shut up and I collapsed and I cried and everything I held in I let out.
Crying is weird, it's unfamiliar and it's... different. I'm not good at it and I naturally excel at (almost) everything I do. Not crying. Not talking. I can't remember the last time I cried before today.
They are my people. The two of them. And my awkward, mouth-breather of a dog.