608 Reads | Published about 7 years ago
I watched the light and the glass bend the stalk of the last flower I'd ever give her as she got up and left. The door slammed and I thought of a thousand better things I might have said. "I think I'm supposed to cry now." I said aloud, disinterestedly.
It seemed far off, the breaking off of the engagement and the public shame. I looked around at people trying not to look at me, and I nearly laughed. "Seven years, three thousand dollars and you think you're uncomfortable." I got up to leave, and turned back to the table. The flower and the stem were lined up perfectly in the reflection of the glass. "Figures." I thought.
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