“It’s good to see you.”
It wasn’t.
“I hoped we could talk.”
Wished we didn’t have to.
“It’s been too long.”
Not long enough.
Leaning against the air-hockey table, shoes white against the slushy stain, she replies:
“It’s been two days, Tyler. And I only came to get my backpack.”
Kerry teaches English with the comfortable assuredness that he is almost often not wrong about it.
Chick flicks, tragedies, heartbreaking anti-romances… She couldn’t get enough. Those faces on the screen, looming large, eyes, noses, mouths puckered in anguish, terrified: “Love me! Love me! I don’t want to be alone!”
Her hard drives were filled to the brim with her obsession. She was downloading torrents of tears.
This story was based on the prompt “torrents” at TypeTrigger.