Walking Scruffy (Part Two)

Sadly for him, I am still alive, feeling each drop of condensation on my face. My head gently moves upward in order to avoid the wet impact, but my eyes almost inevitably begin to wander. “Amy” is walking hand-in-hand with her new boyfriend. I try to fake ignorance, but little can be done by this point. The idea that someone else’s hand and fingers are holding hers with each step along the walkway leaves me bothered and distant.
My knees buckle as she comes closer. Her hypnotizing eyes even attract the dog and make my firm grip on the leash more necessary. The click of her heels and steps fill my ears with every feeling under the sun—beauty, torment, passion, fury. I wanted nothing more than to have her all to myself, away from that man next to her.
She begins to pass me with her elegance. Our eyes connect. The question comes, once more, to the surface.
“Hi! How are you?”
I act like a coward by faking a smile and lying to her.
“Pretty good, thanks.”
She still has no clue. Maybe she’s better off that way.

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