Five minutes after signing the contract, I dropped to the floor, gasping for air. Next to being waterboarded as a Vietnam POW, I could tell that editing this manuscript was going to be the most horrendous experience of my life: Inquiring my well-wishers, which is the deadliest mistake as inherently scheduled to jealousy or hawk eyesight on your wardrobe waiting for the garment to vomit out as not fitting towards them or due to impaired vision, will tell you a lie. After I stopped hyperventilating, I thought, well the next chapter can’t be that bad. It wasn’t. It was worse: Emotional detachment between us during manifested harmony in relationships was…
