Jan. Week 4: Tuesday Evening with Jonathan...

The drive home was a tundra of numbness, her mind quietly blinking between two images: Jonathan at the kitchen table, looking up from his laptop with that boyish smile; and Mr. Howard or someone else, looming behind his desk, zipper open in expectation. Every time her thoughts strayed to the latter, she would grip the wheel harder, knuckles white, and mutter a string of self-hating curses under her breath. By the time she pulled into the driveway, she’d almost convinced herself she was still the same person as this morning.

Jonathan was there early from work...