Scrolling through my Facebook newsfeed, my finger pauses above some prom pictures of Laine. I don't know her too well, but she looks nice, her deep red print dress clashing subtly with her pale ginger hair. And then I see him, standing next to her, and my heart twists.
He told me that he used to have a crush on her, but got over it. I guess they just went as friends. It's been less than a month since we broke up, can he have moved on already?
I study the pictures carefully, without a good reason -- punishment, perhaps, for -- I don't know! Her lipstick is too bright, the freckles on her bare arms contrasting a little too much with her smoothed-over face, I can't see her shoes but I'd be willing to bet my life that they're heels -- and he's wearing his tux, probably the same one he wears for concerts, and his smile is not what I thought it was, and suddenly there is this shock, because I don't love him anymore.
And I'm glad that he went to prom with her, because it's a way for him to heal and to move on, and I wouldn't even have bought a special dress, and sure, it would've been nice to go to a prom, but there will be parties in college, and why do I even care about Laine's prom pictures anyway, and I scroll down and leave him in the past.
