I Shall Never Mess Up Again

How do you mend a broken three-chambered heart? This question tailed me as I wandered lost and lonely from the burrow of the frog I once loved most ardently. It is true she endeavored to devour me, rend me limb from spotted limb, and yet, in my eyes, she had been perfect. Mayhap, I mused, I was not destined for love in this life, at least not the romantic kind, that full-body luminescence conjured when two hearts meet, mingle, and meld. O, the ecstasy of amplexus, are we fated never to touch?

Enough! I can spare no more space in my heart for a vile temptress. Having escaped with everything but my dignity intact, I literally hopped with my proverbial tail betwixt my legs. I hankered for the comfort of home, that old familiar plastic cube in the laboratory, and knew thither I must go. These clinical strictures, which once felt suffocating, now offered me a sense of comfort, how wrapping yourself in a blanket is sometimes the closest you can come to being held.