When the class ended, I noticed her jacket abandoned on the chair. Maybe she was too distracted by her guilt towards me to remember such trivial things as jackets. I picked it up gingerly and pressed the fabric to my face. The familiar smell of lavender overwhelmed me. I wanted so badly to cry.
In that moment I realized the real truth. Sara didn’t care. She wasn’t distracted by guilt. Her vacant expression showed it all; self preservation and gain were her bread and butter.
I was a perfect boyfriend for all the wrong reasons, and she cared about me enough to help her through her other problems. I was a jacket to keep her warm through her parent’s divorce and her fluctuating body image. I was only another toy in her dollhouse of a universe, where she can discard anything the outgrows. But her trash heap is growing, too. Once she realizes the weight of her actions, she’ll finally have to face the music.