When I came out of the toilets, he was waiting for me. He was leaning against the wall, looking like James Dean or something. I just rolled my eyes.

“Hey! I wanted to talk to you.” It figures. The second I’m mildly happy, the merest moment of forgetting the past and here he is to stuff everything up for me. JERK !

He’s standing right in front of me now, I can see the tiny scar on his chin. He’s nervous. He keeps running his fingers through his hair.

“Look…”
“I can’t do this right now!” I hiss, I try to brush past him but I’m not going anywhere it seems – strong hands are pulling me back. I wish I knew jujitsu, I’d punch him in the eye and go all Jackie Chan on his ass.

“Claire. Let’s not be shitty to each other…” Ha! I feel the sudden urge to stab him repeatedly. Let’s not be shitty to each other? Isn’t it a little too late for that? Plus, last time I checked it was him who was the shitty one. I was the one with the sucking gushing open wound where my heart used to be.