You and Arthur were officially broken up. It hurt to even think about, so you tried not to, but it was almost impossible. Everything reminded you of him. Whiskey, hats, guns, boots, horses… especially horses. Ugh. Not the time, brain.

One night, you got a knock at your door. You stumbled over yourself going to grab it, you opened it and met with… “Arthur.” — “Yeah, I didn’t come here to make up or nuthin’, just… you’ve got my jacket.”

No, no way he wanted it back. Damnit. No!