For the most part, I did trust my own judgement. But I was more than capable of screwing up. Just, sometimes, I forgot about that in my quest to move forward.

I didn't mind walking into danger on my own. Not the concept of it, anyway.

I imagined it was far better to be optimistic, to proceed assuming wherever you could that you had cared enough, that you'd made a difference, that you would again. Dwelling on the worst was no way to live.

Having friends was weird . . . but in a good way.

The man was a bully. A bully who'd elevated himself to a high-level position, but a bully just the same. No amount of flattery would change how I saw him.

Lesson: Never underestimate a woman. Or a chef.