Try to make me cry
he demanded, hitting the dashboard with a dull thud.
“This is the most we've ever talked to each other, Eddie. I hate it. I never want to speak this much with you again,” I admitted, the weary truth escaping me.
“Then stay in your lane! Stop creating noise! What the hell will people think?” he countered, his focus, predictably, back on reputation.
Of course. Always about the narrative.
“Drive,” I warned, my hand gripping the door handle, “ or I’ll get off right here."
“Are you even listening to me?” he yelled, his voice laced with the tear of pure frustration.
Bab Populer