I feel a hot bubble pop silently in my chest. It’s been almost a month now, dealing with this awkward situation. I say awkward. I mean hellish. He told her he couldn’t be friends with her anymore, feeling how he did about her. He knew at the time that she was taken, as did she. she didn’t come home that night, even so. Now I get a sick feeling every time I see them together. That much is understandable, I think.

That’s why I spat on the ground today, when they walked past. It was all I could do not to throw up. He saw, though, not that I tried to hide it. Now he’s an inch from my face, yelling about how fed up he is with my attitude, telling me to grow up and deal with it. We’re about the same height and build. A fleck of spit lands on my cheek.

He’s stumbling back now, in shock. Blood is streaming from his face. Still not sure how it happened, really.

I spit out his taste on the pavement and walk away.

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