A year later, we married, I just turned eighteen, he twenty-three. I’ve never known another man. Now twenty-five, I’m meeting my first real date....I’m being me, at last. Conversing with myself between stoplights, I rewrote my personal history to justify meeting a man, not my husband.Approaching Michael’s restaurant in Sunnyvale, our meeting place, however, my rationalized confidence dissipated, replaced with timid reality.I’m risking my marriage, family, my world. I should go home. I knew I. Her final act of self submission in the build up was her decision to not bring her phone or purse, and just enough money for the ticket one way to London. There was only one way to go.The train shuddered to a halt at the platform of Kings Cross station, the carriage became very busy with everyone around gathering their belongings and making their way to the doors. As the throng of people subsided, Samantha stepped out of the carriage and onto the platform, very uneasy in her heels. The platform. More

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