Go somewhere. Go anywhere. There was nothing more pathetic than sitting alone on Christmas Eve and watching other people bustle along the street outside your window. She’d turned down every holiday party invitation, made excuses that sounded hollow even to her. She was brooding, she admitted, and it was entirely unlike her. But then again, she’d never had a broken heart to nurse before. With Bob it had been wounded pride. And that had healed itself with embarrassing speed. Now she was left with bleeding emotions at the time of year when love was most important. She missed him. Oh, she hated to know that she missed him. That slow, hesitant smile, the quiet voice, the gentleness of him. In New York, at least, she could have lost herself in the crowds, in the rush. But here, everywhere she looked was another reminder. Go somewhere, Nell. Just get in the car and drive.
