Cathy And The Beast
She is in front of my fridge with a glass of wine in her hand being raised to pursed lips.
She takes a sip of the wine with her eyes fixed on me, makes a dramatic show of swallowing, squeezes her face in disgust and places the wine glass gently on the countertop. I try not to laugh. “This is about Brad,” she says finally.
“Here we go again,” I say as I grab my fully packed backpack and walk away from her towards my living room. I don’t look back but I hear her hurry after me.
“It’s true, Cathy,” she says. “You are trying to fill up the space that jerk left with this weird fantasy and I…”
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