"I'm sorry." I dropped everything I was holding, and sat on the ground. Why did everything I love, fall through the spaces between my fingers like it was nothing. My kitchen floor felt cool, and I scratched my fingers across the tile, my stomach was beginning to feel sick. This had all moved too quickly, so I got up and sprinted to the bathroom. I thought I would vomit immediately, but it wasn't until I flashed back to every word people had said about where he had been, that made me release everything in my stomach. I didn't want to believe that when my best friend told me she saw him with another woman that it was true. I didn't want to believe that when my boss said he saw a blonde step into his car with him at a gas station that he was telling me a fact. I didn't want to believe that I had made a fool of myself in front of everyone I trusted. I knew that they didn't want to see me fall, see me crumble under pressure. I was known for being so optimistic, so alive. Now I lacked feeling at all. What should this even feel like? "I should be angry." I said to myself. "I should slash his tires." So I went to his favorite bar, found his SUV, and slashed all 4 and the spare.
Public Domain
The conversation lasted two words: