Single. Solitary. Solo. Some other word for alone. A bee does a 360-degree swoop around my hair before diving head-first into the lavender bush beside me, and I’m too depressed to even react. Shockingly, falling in love with the first guy to wink at me from across a cadaver wasn’t a good idea, but that didn’t stop me, did it? I blame my mother. If a woman’s lit professor who spent the last twenty years raising me couldn’t teach me that lesson, who could have?