Trina Titus Lozano

img_2327-2 (1).jpg
 
 

It all started when...

The minister at my wedding forgot to mention the invasion of a particular floozy—the impetus of the worst night of insomnia I’d ever confront. The tightening inside my chest akin to that of a quarterback’s spouse as she gazes upon her concussed husband, writhing in pain beneath a pile of burly linebackers, all masterfully trained in the art of tackling specifically him. But the squeeze inside my chest much worse. My own heart pinned beneath my foot, adoring nothing more than to gaze lovingly upon James’s flailing body wedged between two all-pro linemen, longing for the pain to compare to the pressure my heart felt as “I want a divorce!” swirled in a fog around my disoriented mind.