You Are Still Mine
I pick up my phone and send a quick text to my mother:
“Mom, I have to stay late. Lots of work. I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you guys.”
Susana walks past me a few minutes later, throwing me a look of pity.
“Wow, welcome to the club,” she whispers. “Amy is in a dog of a mood today. If you need anything, I’ll be on the 40th floor. Don't let her break you, Camila.”
“She won't shreds,” I reply, though I’m not sure if I’m speaking to Susana or to myself.
I get up and head toward the elevator; a long, lonely afternoon in the dusty basement warehouse awaits me. But as I ride down, I can't stop thinking about what Amy told me: “Mediocre men who have no idea what they are touching.”