The voice echos as I disappeared into the night.
I was the kind of drunk where I was up and aware of everything, but could barely see. And although my memories of that evening, even while I was living it, were hazy at points, I knew exactly where I was going and what I needed to do.
Next thing I knew, I was banging on the door. The back door that was really the front door, because that’s how student houses work. I was banging on the door, loudly, unapologetically, tears streaming down my face, as I stood in the pouring rain. Actions that sound more romantic and profilic than they actually were.
I had a moment of completely sobering clarity when the door swung open. I realised what I had done just by the look on his face.
He used to look at me like I was stardust, but now, I instantly didn’t matter.
This is part of my creative writing series, Shorts. Check out my last one here.