Abby

A curse slips out of my mouth as I lurch across my living room. My fingers are

clumsy as I fumble with the door handle, but finally, I yank it open. The porch

light filters in, revealing Karl, his figure imposing even in the darkness of the

street outside.

“What are you doing here?” I’m more tired than angry, and a little too drunk for

my own good, leaving my voice harsher than I really intend.

Karl’s eyes scan over me, taking in my haphazard state, before his gaze floats

past me and into the equally haphazard state of my apartment. “Why aren’t you

answering your phone?” he asks. “I’ve been trying to call you. I’m worried.”

Enter title…

partially to hide his view of the mess in my

to steady myself. “I didn’t feel like

what I want it to: that

do I need

doesn’t budge. Instead, he steps forward, brushing past

chance to stop him. He

the half-eaten takeout food, the two wine bottles, and

with the discarded towel before he

been trying to reach you. Don’t shut down

so slightly. “Well, I haven’t

been… busy.”

folds his arms across his chest and frowns,

what? Watching old

a pointed look at

that will somehow protect me.

what? It’s

is again: that defensiveness

on Karl, who only ever tried his best to help me

angry with the world,

why.

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