Blood and Aurora
Three years after our divorce, I ran into Cole Allen again on the streets of Atlantica. I was there as a volunteer, handing out boxes of cold medicine, and he had become a homeless man, struggling to survive.
It was ironic because our divorce had all started because of a box of cold medicine.
“Two times a day. Two pills each time.”
I handed the medicine to him, my tone calm, like I was speaking to a stranger. However, Cole’s eyes slowly turned red.
“Sadie, you still hate me.”
I didn’t look up. I kept passing out boxes of medicine to the people in line.
“This box of medicine only costs one dollar. It’s very cheap, yet you forced me to sell my blood for money. Cole, how could I not hate you for that?”