300

Truth

Matt greeted Diane with a polite handshake. He noted her limp hand in his and how fast she turned to greet Chad. Today, like many years ago, he still hoped she'd give him a sign of her interest. He shrugged and asked himself why he expected differently when she barely noticed him in college. Then he chastised himself. His live-in girlfriend wouldn't be too happy to find out the course of his thoughts. Like how Diane's scarf complemented her turquoise dress or how it curved around a neck he always found perfect. He'd have to guard himself and prevent his true feelings to show since they had decided before they accepted her in the group they'd treat her like one of the boys.

Matt sat at the long table, covered with chipped paint and trained his eyes on the white screen, the easiest way to ignore Diane's presence. Chad assumed his carefree stance before the whiteboard, and his business suit gleamed under the bright light in the room. Matt gasped after a few slides. Chad had built an elaborate argument to hide a basic truth; the alloy, under the right angle, could bear any pressure. Matt spent long hours in the laboratory to find the right formula. To his dismay, the group chose Chad for the presentation. He knew the detailed graphs showing vectors of forces breaking the compound would not matter if the group could see the lab record. Chad probably destroyed it. However, Matt made a copy the day Chad left for a date with Diane. He'd always remember the harrowing, not-good-enough-for-Diane feeling that day.

The truth always catches up, and Matt resolved to tell it, his own way. He stood, arranged his glasses, and stated, matter-of-factly.

"You forget something Chad; it's not the length of the vector that matters, it's how you apply the force."