“You’re a BMW,” she said. “You’re sexy, but you’re expensive, and you break down a lot.”

I stood frozen to the spot as the words slammed into me, knocking my breath out of my chest and flooding me with the dark heat of shame.  I started to disassociate which allowed me to make a joke, to pretend it meant nothing.

She may have had no idea how her words would land. Or maybe she did, because, from the vestiges of my trauma, I had hurt her.

I have no way of knowing intent, only effect.

What I do...