She prayed again for the night to stall, to stretch out just a little longer. Sitting in the dim, smoky bar, her foot tapped an anxious rhythm against the cracked but shiny wooden floor. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, tears she refused to release.

She had thought about visiting her parents one last time, but the same cold knot in her stomach that kept her from lifting the glass of whiskey sitting on the table before her, kept her from walking toward that house, almost a cottage, but not quite home.

Did she miss them? No. They had pushed her out that night, handed her over like baggage no...