She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her darkish hair falling over her shoulders, which didn’t shrug or slouch, even given the information she had just received. She remained confidently defiant and somehow strong. She didn’t know what to think – not yet. He was as asshole, that much she knew. She’s always known that, and yet it had never stopped her from loving him. A love that had not been returned aside from an occasional hollow proclamation. She knew that, too, but it still didn’t stop her from loving him. The son of a bitch. The no good so and so. It seemed like everyone knew it but her, and even then, she knew what they didn’t know. That he could be so much more than what was on the surface. Yin and yang. If she had taken time to look it up, she’d have known he was bipolar. A good guy but a bad drunk. He was the dog that chewed the shoes, but you still scratched his ears anyway. The little bastard.

Her mom liked him. Her dad saw right through him and he had been correct in assuming it would end badly. Of course he cheated on her. Of course he lied. And of course he left her to fight the fires he had started – left with nothing to fight them with but bare hands and a will to survive.

She was a survivor. He wasn’t the first one to let her down, but he would be the last. She swore it. She swore it to herself and swore it to the reflection staring back at her. Never again, they agreed.

The phone rang in the other room. She almost didn’t answer.

This one was destined to be short and sweet, just a little rock and roll tune about a girl who’s had to deal with a few too many romantic disasters. I had about half of a chorus and a verse. Crosby helped me finish it at my place in Austin. It originally sounded kinda like a Ronette’s tune, which I dug, but then Bukka played a piano part that started taking it in more of a Springsteen direction, so we just let it happen naturally and it took on a whole new sound.