Your Sorry Face

“Wow! It’s so good to see you!” is what he says, but what he really means is, Why are you back here? Don’t you know I never wanted to see your sorry face again?

This I know.

He has that same stupid smile pasted on his face, the one everyone seems to be wearing in this burning Hell of a town. For a moment I indulge myself and imagine what it would feel like to slap that perfect face – I can almost feel the open palm of my left hand connecting to the flawless flesh of his cheek.

But I don’t.

Instead I do something worse.

“Yeah. It’s been a while. How are you?” is what I say, but what I really mean is, I hate you, and don’t you realize that when I left it was so I would never have to talk to any of you again?

We’re standing here in the frozen food isle, having this telepathic conversation.

But it’s all in the look.

This I know.

“Well.” He says, “I guess I’ve got to get going,” and inside him is a sigh of relief.

“Yeah,” is what I say. But what I mean is I never want to see your sorry face agan.

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