He was struck. So was I. I didn’t anticipate my response to come out the way it did. Honesty is something I tend to push away inside my own personal closet when emotions are at stake. It was like I turned around a corner by accident. Should I turn back?

“I don’t know why I accepted your invitation or why I’m even talking to you right now.”

Too late.

His head turned to look out the window. His lower lip hung down, an incredulous stare filled his eyes. He nodded slightly, never looking back at me. I could see I hurt him. But instead of a desire to rectify this awkward exchange, I felt nothing. And why now, in this moment, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that whatever general sympathy I would naturally conjure in a situation like this couldn’t be summoned. I really didn’t care. Was I just fed up with him or had I come to a realization that I was tired of hiding what I really thought? At the time, I didn’t ponder the question any further.

I pushed away from the table, picked up my cup and headed for the door.