Maybe it's like a new pair of shoes, I think. The way your feet rub against them, the way the skin tears. You have to form a callus, yes? A scab that hardens. All you have to do is get past the blood and you'll be fine.
There was nothing inherently wrong. Maybe a look here, a laugh there. Maybe he talked a little too much. And maybe all she had to do was ignore those things. They were little, weren't they? They didn't mean much. He was a nice guy. He was a good man. She could be happy with him for a long time.
She cut him loose. She made it quick. Shoes are cheap compared to love. They aren't people, and people aren't shoes. Love was far more complex than wardrobe, she thought. And maybe that was just an excuse, but she was fine with that for now. She didn't need to form any harder places in her to try and find someone to hold her late at night.
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