Don't Mark Me
An hour later, Chris returned with his catch.
"This is for you," he said, tossing the prey at my feet.
It was a small rabbit. Blood still dripped from its soft fur, but I felt nothing.
He knew. He knew I loved rabbits. I even kept one as a pet. Yet, he chose this childish and cruel way to express his dissatisfaction.
"Thank you," I said coldly. "Take me home." I didn't bother picking up the prey. Without another word, I turned and walked toward the car.