I threw my bag and my phone against my room wall and dove on the bed, burying my face in my pillow. I lasted all but a few seconds before I scrambled up in a huff, reaching beneath my bed for The BOX . It took even less time for me to tear apart all of the memories we’d made over the last few month.
Oh, I’ll show him.
My thumb pounded on the numbered keys on my cell phone and he answered,
“Hello?”
“Ya, it’s me,”
“What do you want?”
“I have some of your shit to give to you,”
“Fine, I’ll come get it!”
“Don’t bother; i’ll meet you at the bridge!”
“Fine,” there was a loud click.
Fuming, I ran out the front door, grabbing a hammer and marched to the old bridge. He was already there in his precious Saab, shining blue, emaculate.
“It’s about time you showed up,” he said.
He didn’t see me weilding the hammer at his tail light.
“HEY!”
His window: “What the…”, his head light, “Jesus,” His head!
Silence.
I put him in the back, strapped in the front and drove the thing into the river.
I showed him!