Angry tears coursed down my cheeks as I held the steering wheel of the compact car loosely in my quaking grip.

He had said I was his best friend. We had chatted long into the night for months. We called each other, shared more of our lives, discussed philosophy, morality, love, life, and death. His words entranced me, casting a spell.

I had secretly purchased the plane ticket, hoping to surprise him by showing up at his door. The flight was late, the rental car company had to give me a different car, which meant new paperwork, and it was going on dinnertime by the time I finally found his house by faulty Google maps.

As I parked one house down, I saw his door open, warm yellow light shining in the blue evening. A girl walked out, smiling at him. He closed the door behind them, and wrapped an arm around her waist. I felt I had been kicked in the gut.

I don’t know what I was thinking, that I meant something to him, I guess. Jealousy ignited a fire that burned my heart inside.

I dialed his number.