It's Hard to Love When You Feel Everything

I booked a hotel room in Pittsburgh after another fight with my boyfriend. The drive was about an hour and a half, and somewhere along that highway I convinced myself that what I needed most was distance. Not answers. Not resolution. Just distance.

The room was nothing to write home about, but it gave me space to breathe. The next morning, looking for anything to do besides replay the argument in my head, I went to get my nails done.

The salon was tucked between a few storefronts, long and narrow, as if someone had stretched an ordinary nail bar down a hallway. Acetone hung in the air. A younger woman worked beside an older one who clearly owned the place, and they moved around each other with the ease of people who have shared a small space for years.

The young woman greeted me warmly. We traded the usual pleasantries. Where are you from? What brings you to Pittsburgh? And then, almost without meaning to, I told her the truth.

“My boyfriend and I had a disagreement,” I said. “I just need…