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It is late afternoon. I am home alone, bored and wishing there were something interesting to do. I hear my cell phone ringing in my backpack, so I reach for it. Not recognizing the number, I answer, curious as to who has my number. As soon as I hear someone speak on the other end of the line, I know who it is: My ex, Scott. (He and I had an on-again, off-again relationship when we were teenagers, and more recently, I cheated on my husband with him last year. We got caught, and things got ugly). Heart racing, I am both excited and annoyed. I ask why he is calling me, and he replies that even though it has been such a long time since we've seen or spoken to one another, he can't get me out of his mind. Skeptical, I rebuff him, saying I don't want to be burned yet again by him. Hesitating briefly, he asks me to meet with him. At first, I say 'no,' knowing it would not be the best of ideas. Then, he says something that interests me...He wants to explain himself; how he behaved the last time things went wrong involving the two of us; why he lied to my husband regarding the extent of his willful participation in the affair. Reluctantly, I agree to meet with him. He gives me directions to his place, and I hang up the phone.

Almost on autopilot, I drive to his apartment. As I find a space next to his truck, I sit there, contemplating my choices as the car idles. I could just leave...not even allow the remote chance that something bad could happen. However, my curiosity prevails, and I find myself shutting off the engine. Walking to the door, I again consider leaving, but my legs will not allow me to turn around. It's as though a powerful ...

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