Double Flee A

When she got in her car she was mad. She had been broken up with at a socially inopportune time. She was embarrassed, furious, and driving the hell out of her cheap little hatchback. With a hundred miles to go she lit a marlboro light. It isn't known if she was angry as hell the whole drive or if for just a minute she listened to the radio and spaced out, yawning. I think she was probably pissed off the whole trip, though. The reason that is, is because when I got back to my apartment, she was already in it. She must have passed us on the highway getting back to Cookeville, and raised holy hell, because my two roommates, Bobby and Mindy, were sitting in the couch staring at me when I walked through the door. They looked like they'd already heard more yelling than anyone ought to, and after that there was more. I got the brunt of that, though. Not like I should have. Breaking up with someone should make you free of them, but breaking up with M. only drew her closer, where the chaos was. It was wild, lasted all night, and ended in total fatigue. It should have been the beginning of the end, but it was just the beginning. It was the worst relationship of all time, and I was half of it. It's the worst story I know, and it's all true. I look back on it like a veteran looks back on a bloody battlefield; every day is like a freebie, like retirement, after the madness of that relationship.

posted by dale @ 3:16 PM