Love walked out the door a month ago. It took the cat.
      Since then I’ve been staring at the same calendar page, even though the month and year have changed. I have looked at that wintry landscape a thousand times...cozy homes with the smoke billowing from chimneys, sleigh and horse tracks in front of the country houses and the funny, lopsided snowmen with the smiles that seem to say, “Come in, make yourself warm by the fire!”
      Now, it just looks chilling. I can feel the cold in the marrow of my bones.
      The 26th seems bigger than the other days. It looms larger and more important. It looks proud, almost boastful. I stare at the days that came before, when I didn’t know, and I feel the ulcer in my heart ooze. I feel the acid in my throat burn a caustic bitterness through my soul enough to level the earth. Those days are right there. I could step into that calendar and hop, hop, hop back a week and make it stop.
      But would I want to?
      Even if I could, would I want to stop her from reaching out to someone else? Hadn’t I already pushed her away, pushed her out of my life, out of my heart? Did I ever really love her?
      Or did I only want her to love me?
      Did I only want to win?
      How competitive am I really?