The Writer Gives Him a Piece of Her Mind

“You’ve be very silent…is anything wrong?” Raine was trying to interrogate me visually by boring holes into me over his cereal.

“I told you, I have to leave tomorrow,” I stonily replied, packing the dishes into the sink again. It felt weird to wash dishes; usually, it’s just my portions.

I sighed. It’ll probably revert to that, sooner or later.

“Why, though?” he asked, setting his spoon down.

I turned around, my short fuse ready to blow. “Listen to me, buster, I don’t know anything about you except for the fact that you were about to be turned into dinner chops!”

He looked slightly taken aback, but I continued. No stopping me and my big mouth when I was on a roll.

“I gave you hospitality, I gave you a room and nursed you back to health! You could have an inkling of respect when something involves my father!” I finished, quite breathless.

He sat back, looking pleased.

I played my rant over in my head until I had understood that I had actually given away my reason.

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