It wasn’t her fault. Not her fault at all, even though she did crank the radio as they parked. It was his driving that caught the corner of the parked volvo. However, It could have been the vendor on the corner that caught his eye. The 3 feet of snow that fell the previous 2 days surely didn’t help.
Regardless of the run in, they shared fault in ignoring little problems. Little problems that lead to other little problems. The half dragging bumper was just the catalyst.
She ran up the stairs to the apartment. He had never seen her slam the door so hard. And her speed to twist the deadbolt behind her pierced him. She latched the chain. He sank against the wall. Muddy puddles from snow-covered boots soaked his seat on the floor.
A tear welled in her eye. She fought it back with a hard, dry swallow.
He could hear her stomp across the room and open the window to the fire escape. He imagined her curled up, hugging her knees on the small chair in the corner of the room.
She rubbed her tear off on the arm. It was not the most comfortable chair. She didn’t even like it that much, but the cool air from the open window often brought her to it. It was painfully heavy though, and to get rid of it would only add to the scratches in the narrow hall.
He picked at the chipped paint. What now, he thought, what now…
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~Credit where credit is due, listened to this cover by Steve Means, and caught wind to write this up… Thanks my man…