A Trip to Cabo

After Miranda hung up on me, my mind struggled against the headache as I tried to think of everything that I'd need in order to travel.

Passport: check; at least that's one thing The Asshole couldn't take from me.

Money: uh, maybe; I thought as I opened my bank's app and checked my accounts. Fortunately, I had my paycheck changed to a private account when The Asshole told me he wanted {if husband==true}a divorce{else}to break up{endif}. Actually, it wasn't The Asshole himself, no, the little shit had his lawyer do it for him. Anyway, I had enough for the plane ticket, but not as much as I would have liked.

Clothes: hmmm, I guess I'll need to visit my storage unit and see what I can throw together. I'd definitely need shorts and tee shirts, which shouldn't be a problem, and probably a swimsuit, which I had barely worn since {if husband==true}the honeymoon{else}The Asshole and I started dating{endif}.

Resigning myself to doing this, I got on one of the last-minute-fare websites and bought the tickets to and from Cabo San Lucas. Then, I bought some Tylenol at a pharmacy and headed to the train platform bound for the distant storage unit which held what little was left of my possessions.