Burning Bridges (pt. 2)

A few of the people around us stirred in the now uncomfortable funk hanging above the table, but my lunchmate’s reaction was as fast as a drunken sloth. He craned his neck over from the giant TV, showing ESPN , to give me a glance. “Whatever.â€?
I bit my lip. “Oh… so you heard me.â€?
“Course I did… you said it pretty fucking loud, ‘tard.â€?
“I mean it. I can’t do this anymore.â€? I picked up my tray and left. “I’m not going to waste any more of my time on you.â€?
He laughed, the sound hitting the back of my head and sliding all the way down my neck.
“I doubt that.” He chuckled again, wiped his mouth on his shirtsleeve.” I’ll give you a couple days to cool off.â€?

No, this wasn’t the time to cool off. For once, I was ready to be fired up.

So, I decided after lunch that day that it was time for a controlled burn of my life.

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