High (Heel) Maintenance [Part Three]

That was the most I heard him talk all day. “Oh, so you have a problem with me looking good? I can’t help it. I work hard to look the way I do. If guys look, how is that my problem?” I took a sip of my water. That wasn’t the right thing to say. “I cannot believe you just said that. Are you kidding me right now?” I didn’t say anything back. We sat in silence until our food came. Kathy brought over our entrees, with a smirk on her face. Bitch. I meakly took a bite of my cobb salad. Of course the chicken was drenched in oil and deepfried; leave it to a diner to make a salad incredibly unhealthy. Scott put his utensils down and said, “Listen..well, I don’t know how to say this but to say it. We need to take a break.” I looked at him in disbelief with raging, vixen eyes.

I took my purse off the tacky, red upholstery and got up with force. I walked out the doors to leave when my heel caught the tile and I tripped. Slightly, but still. As I pushed the doors I saw red-headed Kathy laughing in my peripheral. Bitch.

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