My Phone Screen Is Cracked, and She’s a Bitch

I cracked my phone screen. Let me back up…. The title of this post might be confusing, but I cracked my phone screen when I originally found out she was going to go to therapy. I had put my phone in an otter box because I cracked my screen a few times before and it’s expensive to repair.

I suppose I should start at the beginning. I call her Africa because she lives in Africa. I went to high school with her, and our story is kind of complicated. I liked her, she didn’t like me. We had a really weird date once and then she ran away to Africa. Came back, we had a weird interaction and then weird date. She had come back because here dad was dying.

I remember sitting in the Greek restaurant waiting for her. I got her favorite flowers and I dressed nice for the occasion. Basically my work attire, wich is a suit. I wore a shirt her favorite color and looked sharp.

She came in, wearing a black dress and green sweater. Maybe it was white… I digress. We talk about her father’s death, and how things were for her. How I’m moving into a more corporate world and writing novels and movies, and my life is headed to LA, and her’s is in Africa.

The worst part was, she never asked if I would give it up. I can write from anywhere. Anyway, I digress again…

She had a lunch right before she left, not with me, but a friend of mine was there and told me what was said. There was a glimmer of hope.

Then she left.

Then she sends out mass emails and let us know, I have a boyfriend. Thanks.

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