thirty six - bryson

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WITH MY BRAIN cells on a temporary leave, I come up with mankind's dumbest excuse. "I think I walked into the uh...the wrong house." I mentally facepalm myself the moment those words leave my mouth.

I turn to leave, but Wyatt is no help.

"What game are you playing man? Come tell Kiana that these brownies are top tier!" Wyatt hollers and I feel this sudden and core-deep urge to bury myself alive.

Turning around, I find Kiana staring intensely at the table, probably avoiding eye contact.

Don't worry Kiana, I don't want you to look at me either.

"This my girl Kiana. Tell her about the brownies." Wyatt urges, not understanding that in this moment, I need to flee. I need to disappear and pray to God that Kiana forgets seeing me. And he needs to stop confirming my identity to her.

"I have to go." Kiana suddenly speaks, still not looking at me.

"You're not taking anything?" A confused Wyatt asks.

Reaching into her back pocket, Kiana pulls out a note and places it on the island before grabbing three brownies. Without a word, she's out the door, and I hear tires screeching against the asphalt.

She's going to forget. And I'm going to forget. We're both going to forget. We have to.

"I don't think I'm high enough." I mutter to myself before making my way to the island, taking a bite of a chocolate chip cookie.

"What the hell just happened?" Asks Wyatt.

I shake my head. "Just...don't ask."

Fucking hell.

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