"What are you doing?"
He looked up from under the table. "I'm trying to help you look for your keys."
"Give it up. It's useless. I've searched this place from top to bottom, side to side and everywhere in between."
"They're here somewhere. You drove over here, so you obviously had them. I swear to God, Sarah, you'd lose your head if it wasn't attached."
"What?!?! I've misplaced one thing. One. How does this qualify me as someone who'd 'lose their head if it wasn't attached'? And why are you so . . .so . . . ill today? Male PMS?"
He stood up and dusted off his knees, "I've got things to do today and instead of doing them, I'm crawling around the dirty floor searching for your keys."
"Well, Mr. Important, go if you've got to go. No one told you to help me look for my keys. I'll find them myself, thank you very much."
"Go? Go? How would I go? You're-still-here!"
"I do know how to work a doorknob. I think, think mind you, that I can operate a door well enough to let myself out."
"And let you snoop around my house by yourself? Oh. I see. You haven't lost your keys at all. They're probably over there in your purse. You just want to sneak and snoop and see what I've been up to. Forget it. It's none of your business any more. Get over your jealousy, get over your nosiness and get over me!"
"You flatter yourself, really. I was over you the minute we broke up. You ended it and a millisecond later I realized I could do sooooooo much better. I give you another week before you're dating girls that still feather their bangs and tight roll their jeans. You'll be cruising trailer parks and high schools and I'll be laughing my ass off. I was the best thing that ever happened to you and deep down you know it."
He gritted his teeth before grabbing his gym bag and his keys. "Fine. Let yourself out. I don't care what you do or what you find." And with that, he was out the door and slammed it for emphasis.
She threw herself onto the empty couch that smelled of him and cried. Why couldn't she just say, "I love you. I will always love you. Please take me back."
But her pride was stronger than her love.
3 comments:
Oooh, good use of feather! I'd kind of forgotten all about that form of hair styling :)
I think that it's often much easier to let the things we feel and want to say to people we care about slide, especially when THEY have made it clear that we no longer matter to them in that capacity. Pride is a crazy thing. Even when we tell ourselves to let go of it, many times it still hangs on.
P.S. I totally agree about the commenting: it seriously makes me mad. I used to never comment that I'd even posted, but found that didn't help either. A few of them come back and write something later, but a lot of them don't. :-/
Love the last two paragraphs. And I also adore this line
I give you another week before you're dating girls that still feather their bangs and tight roll their jeans.
Takes me back to middle school.
Love is the hardest thing to admit to someone but, I never understood why myself. Keep up the good work.
Michelle
Post a Comment