NaBloPoMo, Day 20: Don’t You Know People Write Songs About Girls Like You?

Everything she said was fire, and my retractions were tender.

Fuck you, Tucker.

As she pushed through the double-doors, I ran after her.

Come back!

My breath failed me. After lunchtime, running is as arduous as ever for my frame. She was kind enough to remind me daily.

But I still held on to her.

Why, so you can go off with Susie-fucking-Q when I turn around?

You know that was a mist–

A mistake?
A big fucking mistake.

Nothing she said was wrong, nor did I have anything to come back with. She hadn’t called me sick on our anniversary, while planning to jump out the window with so-called “Susie-fucking-Q.”

That was all me.

Nadine shoved my hand off her shoulder. The one I used to lay on as we swayed in the breeze in her mom’s creaky hammock. She whipped around, grabbed my hand, and bent it back at the wrist.

You broke my heart,

She twisted my hand.

And now we’re done and even.


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