It was a quiet dining room. We were miles apart, seating on the chairs in the two ends of the round table. There was an ignored electric fusion over our heads, but we kept slicing the broccoli as if it could repress the rage of the night.
“You didn’t have to show up tonight at the college party. They think I should leave you, but I don’t listen to them even if I want to. I don’t know why,” you might as well break my lungs until it bled. “You were just so demanding.”
I could feel your eyes on me. Your hands paused from moving. I stood up and threw my plate, knife, fork and glass on the basin. I turned on the faucet. The scalding water filled up the glass until the water spilled from its lips. “Am I?”
The glass cracked, but it did not break. Look what you had done.
WORD COUNT: 156
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