A Story About a Girl (I)
I hadn’t heard from her in quite some time. There was a time not too long ago that I believed I would never hear from her again. For once, I was glad that I was wrong.
The last time we spoke, she seemed as if she was slightly intoxicated and she only had deceptively harsh words for me. Those words came through quivering lips and full of anguish. The potentially hateful things that she said didn’t cut me like she had hoped. She tried to push me away; by angering and wounding me so that I would respond with brutal rebuttals and would have given her reason to forget me forever. The thing is, she knew as well as I did, that I wasn’t so easily manipulated.
This time however, she was different. Her words were strangely timid and hesitant, as if she was afraid of something. What she was afraid of, I do not know. Was there something wrong? Did she remember that night and felt guilty about the things she said? Or was there something else I simply didn’t get.
I wasn’t sure what it was, but I would soon find out.
