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“I’m sorry—”

“Quit saying you’re sorry You’re not sorry How can you be sorry when you just don’t get it?”

Hurt, for a et the words out, and when I did, my voice was tremulous and weak

“You’re not the only one who’s been through shit, you know”

He yanked his hand through his hair, his eyes glittery and angry “Look, you brought me here I didn’t ask to coonna be a good idea? I know I’ with crap I heard you the other night Your mistake died? Is that it? Does that make your shit worse than mine?”

Pain lashed across htly that, for a oing to lose it big-tiers

“I can’t believe you just said that” My words were barely a whisper How had everything fallen apart already?

I stared across the street for the longest tiht This was ht hi to end well, so why had I done it? What rong with me?

Me, Monroe Blackwell, the person who didn’t like to feel anything, and noas so full of e on it It hurt

I’d forgotten how much it could hurt

Brent poked his head out of the door and I watched hiave a half wave, beckoned for us to come, and then disappeared back inside withhim

It was after nine, so I knew they were getting ready to play

I watched a couple walk along the sidewalk, the guy with his ar, talking, kissing her neck as they headed toward the Coffee House

They looked happy Carefree

Soh et what it was Jealousy