It's okay to keep secrets, especially if you know they won't hurt the persons involved...but what happens when they do? What happens when a simple lie, a simple secret, goes too far?
Mark dropped me off at the house. He decided that he'd drive back to his office to record some videos, but he hadn't even considered leaving me alone until I was inside. He actually offered to help me in before going. I didn't decline it, but I was hesitant. I urged him to get a leave on and get a start on his videos so he didn't have to worry later on, but he was persistent— as usual. I had my fair share of persistence though, I apologized so many times for the whole ordeal. I felt bad, but Mark promised me that it was all okay. I wished I could've believed it.
Finally I got Mark to go. He said he'd probably be back at around midnight, since he was planning on editing the videos himself. We said our goodbyes and he was out of the door in a matter of time. I walked over to the dining room table to retrieve my phone. There were a few text messages from Mark when I turned it on, so I slid the notification to the right, entered my password, and opened our conversation. I saw the picture we took, along with another text below it.
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"This turned out to be sexier than I thought it would be"
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Grinning, I saved it to my camera roll. It was great to have him as a friend, we could say weird shit and still be comfortable about it and with each other. He was also a total sweetheart which balanced his strange, comedic nature. I exited Messages and checked my notifications from my various social media apps. Mark tweeted a picture of him and Amy and the first photo he took of himself in 2016- according to the caption. I remembered seeing it for the first time, and seeing it nearly a year later was astounding. There were also tweets from other people I followed at the time, mostly YouTube pals, but some were old buddies from the past.
Instagram was a quick sweep; I saw Mark had posted that picture from earlier and cropped out "the bulge," there were aesthetic posts in my feed because aesthetics were my aesthetic, and sports updates or posts from distant friends. I really only had social media to keep up with people, I didn't really use it for my own personal purposes.
Minutes were passing and I found myself so absorbed in my phone that I nearly forgot that I was in a crisis. The only reason why I remembered was because Chica wouldn't stop sniffing me and investigating the odd odor secreting from my body. I shut off my phone and turned to the worried pup.
"It's okay honey," I reassured her, petting her head. "Everything is fine. Why don't you go play with your toys while I shower?"
I hobbled to the living room with Chica on my tail. I scanned the place for a toy of hers, after a bit finding one sticking out from beneath the couch. It was a squeaky toy of some weird animal, but I was confident Chica didn't have any preferences. It was noisy and something to play with which to me was good enough for her. I proceeded to squeeze the toy to gain her full attention, eventually giving it up to her. She locked her jaw around it immediately, biting down hard to only hear the high-pitched squeal. Merely distracted, I took it as my time to go.
