6
I walked out of the restroom, numb, and
blood gushed from my mouth.
<
I’d bitten through my lip.
I stood in the hallway, staring at the oak tree
in front of the building.
The flowers were in bloom, red as blood, a
scene Amy and I used to love.
She’d once pointed at the tree and said,
“You’re not as romantic as this tree, Tom.”
“But if I never find someone I really like, I
guess I could always marry you.”
“Is that a promise?” I’d asked, hoping.
She nodded. “Yeah, a promise. I guess you’re
the only one I can marry.”
L
She never meant what she said, but I
remembered every word.
I turned and stared at the restroom, the
darkening doorway beneath the sunset.
It was like a pit.
A disgusting pit.
Men grow up in moments.
And love, like a nasty habit, can be kicked in
the blink of an eye, even after a decade.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
The blood on my lip had stopped, and the
pain in my eyes had faded.
I just stared at that disgusting pit.
Finally, Jake and Amy walked out, hand in
hand.
Their faces were flushed, satisfied.
They jumped when they saw me.
Amy froze, her pupils dilating, taking a step
back.
Jake seemed a little awkward, but soon.
turned it into a casual shrug.
He grinned and walked away with Amy.
Amy stumbled along, glancing at me, worried.
L
Our eyes met, and I saw only disgust and
hate.
She seemed to see it too, and slowed down,
looking conflicted.
But she couldn’t say anything, because Jake
pulled her down the stairs.
On the landing, Amy pleaded, “Wait, let me
talk to Tom.”
“The hell you will! I need a smoke. Go buy me
some at the corner store, just tell security you
need a break.”
