Today's writing

I put my phone down and lean back against the headrest, closing my eyes. Fact is, the more I know about people, the less I understand them. How can someone who barely knows me care more about where I’m at, how I’m feeling, than someone who is – was? – supposedly one of my best friends?

Two someones, that is. Matt and Tina, Tina and Matt. I find myself wanting to know every detail, each bit of stupid and gory information. When did they even start communicating in the first place? Last I checked, they weren’t Facebook friends. They didn’t have each other’s phone numbers. I wasn’t even sure they knew each other’s last name.

But these things are easy. Very, very easy.

What’s harder is coming to the point where they would agree that she would come visit him. I can’t imagine she surprised him the way I did. That’s not Tina’s style. Tina likes to announce herself. She appreciates a red carpet awaiting her, cheerleaders if they’re available. Paparazzi is preferred, so long as she has time to hide out with some hairspray beforehand. Preparation is everything.

I can’t seem to open my eyes, turn the key, get moving. I have to get to where I’m going. My father and the Spice Girl await. But I can’t make myself act.

That’s because it’s finally starting to hurt, really hurt, all of it. Everything that sunk down to the bottom of my heart is pressing against my throat. I open the car door and puke it all out onto the hot blacktop of the parking lot.