Don't get stranded anywhere along Highway 50, the loneliest road in the west. You'll feel the 100-degree temperatures hit you before you even step out of the car to pop the hood and assess the damage, enough to melt the soles of your shoes - trust me, I know firsthand.

But it won't be the heat that kills you.

You'll realize that your car is unfixable without spare parts and a helping hand, so you have no choice but to sit and wait. Your cell phone doesn't have service out here.

If you think you can withstand the high desert sauna, you're wrong. The reason is because you just read the word "sauna" without frowning at it. There is no water to this heat, none whatsoever. Maybe you've felt the tropical heat, or even similar-tasting dry heat. But you've never felt what this desert has to offer.

Your sweat will evaporate from your body, making your skin burn, and forcing you to sweat even more.

But it won't be the heat that kills you.

As the sun dips lower, you'll count the minutes to nightfall.

The temperature will drop, and at first, you'll smile and thank your lucky stars. The first cool evening breeze will bolster your spirits.

You'll watch for headlights to see if someone's coming to help you - but you're not as desperate as you were minutes ago. This temperature seems more manageable.

But no cars will come, and the temperature will keep falling.

Desert creatures chatter at night. You'll hear the rattlesnake's warning, and the coyote's scream. You have the warmest blood in this frozen wasteland, and they want it.

Your sweat-soaked clothes will suddenly chill against your body, gathering frost. Your fingertips, which were red from the sunburn just moments ago, turn blue.

You'll drop to the asphalt, hoping that the road held onto some of its warmth, but it's a misguided hope.

Crawl toward the open desert. Bury your body yourself, it will whisper to you.

You'll dig your fingers into the dirt, but it's tough and dry, unwieldy enough to peel your nails away from your skin. The blood that trickles from your hands is the closest thing to water that it's tasted in years.

They'll find your car on the side of the road days later, but they'll never find you.

The desert will drink you up.

A wealthy man married a lass,

and stuck his thing up her crevasse.

He said, "I'm not wild,

I just want a child."

Said the wife, "But you've come in my a**."

I didn't even realize she had it around her finger until she exclaimed, "Hey! We have exactly the same ring size."

I froze. I had just burned my hand on the stove, and I'd taken the ring off to rinse my palm under cold water. She plucked it from the counter and put it on. This woman does stupid sh*t sometimes, but this one tops the list.

I've had that ring for exactly three weeks. Technically, not even a full three weeks - I had to return it to the shop twice to get it resized and appraised. It has my fiancé's great grandmother's diamond in it.

If only she'd asked before she put it on. I would have told her "no" oh-so gently. Nobody has worn that ring besides me, and I'm selfish. It's mine and only mine, just like the man I'm going to marry next year.

She pulled it from her finger and gave it back to me, then said, "Try on my ring! A friend gave it to me."

I numbly slipped her ring over my finger. I know that she sees both the same. They're just rings to her. So it's hard to blame her. But my insides were boiling just as hot as the burn across my palm.

I left quickly after that and drove home in the dark, slapping the wheel and trying to keep my tears at bay. I'm frustrated with how thoughtless she was.

Isn't it a societal norm that you don't try on another person's engagement ring? How can I get over this and put on a smile while she's standing beside me at the altar?

Maybe I'll just elope.

My mom has a scar, faint and fine

on her index knuckle - a long, raised line.

But I must be insane.

My brain's at it again.

Just now, I looked down. The scar's mine.

I melt at his touch whenever he slips the shoes from my feet...among other clothing items.

He makes my skin green with greed for every inch of him.

He's a tall glass of water, and all I want to do is submerge myself. But when I pour myself into him, I never sink. He always floats me.

Guess I've failed the witch trials.