Fúck You, Ex-husband (5)
I woke up sore.
Not the kind of sore that made me regret anything. The kind that made me feel alive. My thighs ached, my hips protested when I shifted on the mattress, and my lower back felt like it had been through a minor car crash. But I smiled anyway. My skin was sticky between my legs, and I didn’t even need to touch myself to know why.
The sheets beneath me had dried stiff. I didn’t care.
I lay there for a while, staring up at the ceiling of cabin 123C. The curtains were drawn, but I could see a line of sun cutting across the carpet. I could hear faint noises from the hallway. Doors closing. Soft thuds of feet passing by. People starting their day.
It took me a minute to realize I was humming.
I let myself stretch, wincing as my muscles protested. Then
