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…
to hide his view
partially to steady myself. “I didn’t
what I
I
steps forward, brushing
chance to stop him. He stands in
food, the two wine bottles,
towel before he
been trying to reach you.
eyes narrow ever so slightly. “Well, I haven’t been looking at my phone.
been… busy.”
folds his arms across his chest and frowns,
Watching old movies and
a pointed look at
that will somehow protect me. “Maybe,” I
what?
it is again: that defensiveness in
failure on Karl, who only ever tried his best to help
I’m angry with the world,
why.
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