"Between friends, unspoken feelings can feel like a fragile thread pulled taut; one denies its existence while the other hides behind its delicate weave, both yearning for the courage to unravel what lies beneath."
Ian and Julian, long-time best fri...
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Anna showed up in tears two hours after Ian made his exit last night, her tears streaming like Niagara Falls. She had been clutching her heels in one hand and her tiny purse in the other. Her sobs and snorts so loud, I had to hustle her inside before the neighbors thought we were running an opera house.
Once she finally calmed down, i had suggested she eat something due to how dangly she looked. It was enough to ask if she had eaten all day to which she confirmed my suspicions that she hadn't. Terrible. And really Terrible. I have the cooking skills of a rock. Frances wasn't around to whip up something edible in minutes, and I wasn't about to beg Candice, who'd probably tell me where to stick it with her gaze.
That left Mel as my very last hope, even though there was a good chance she'd slam the door in my face. I reconsidered my options, thinking briefly about grabbing some snacks instead. However, the memory of her frail appearance stopped me. She looked so weak, her movements so sluggish, that I feared she'd die or something.
Off to Mel's room I went, praying for a miracle.
Barging into her room without knocking, because you know, rules don't apply to me, I was kidding; and she gave me the kind of look that could've wilted flowers—annoyed, offended, the whole nine yards. Over on her bed, a half-packed box hinted she was finally heading back to college. Finally.
She was cradling a cigarette and chatting away on the phone, gazing out from her balcony. Her room, was a sharp contrast to my cluttered mess, which was a minimalist's dream, artfully adorned with pieces that matched her purple vibe perfectly.
"Hey. Make me something I'm hungry!"
She was still on her phone, and the look she gave me screamed, "Buzz off!"
"Please."
She continues to ignore me. I sighed, leaped onto her bed, and proceeded to pester her with interruptions until she finally snapped, excused herself from the call, and unleashed a torrent of colorful language at me.
Once she had exhausted her vocabulary of expletives, I sweetly asked once again if she could whip up a quick meal because, well, I was starving.
She glared at me with a silence treatment for a moment and finally asked why I insisted on being such a prick to Candice. Our eyes met one another but I turned away my focus from her as it was an unappealing feeling and topic of the night.
"Let's not talk about it!"
"Oh, we're talking about it."
"I don't want to have a bad night, Mel. Drop it! Just know I'm not going to accept her, no matter what."
