There's a mug slowly growing cold between my hands as I sit at this little table for two in the back of a coffee shop. Seeing the empty chair in front of me pains my heart, and there's a pang of emotion every time I look at it. I rub my thumb against the side of the coffee mug as I think about just how bad I messed up. Who am I kidding? Messed up doesn't even begin to describe it. I let my emotions take control of me, and I shouldn't have.
