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Final Call

Final Call


Description : Final Call
You know life has taken a shit turn when your underwear doesn’t match.

And the quality of that underwear is a guide to measure the shitness on.

Me? I’m pretty sure I have a hole on the waistband of these boy shorts, so, yeah. My life is at Epically Fucked with a heavy dose of Heartbreak Hell on the life quality guide.

But what can you do?

Tuck your change from the cashier into the pocket of your sweatpants and grab your ice cream—that’s what.

I get into my car, my ice cream snug on the passenger’s seat, and pull away from the store. Tonight is my final night of the allotted seven-day mourning period after the breakdown of a relationship, so basically, it’s my last chance to be a miserable bitch in public. Okay, so I added a couple of days onto the mourning period, but whatever. I plan to milk it for everything it’s worth—ice cream, wine, and my best friend.

It doesn’t matter that I never wanted the relationship in the first place. It doesn’t matter that it was only a handful of days that the relationship had felt truly real to me—like it was something I could hold on to and something I could really change my life for. What matters is that it was real and it happened.

It doesn’t matter that a small part of me wishes it hadn’t. That I was stronger.

I press the button on the keys to open the garage and drive in. The door shuts behind me with a whir, and I rest my head on the steering wheel. I wish I didn’t still feel it—that keen sting of betrayal reminding me of what he kept from me.

Since I stepped foot on the plane—his plane—I’ve wondered if I have been overreacting. More so since I touched back down in Seattle. Should I have stayed the night? Talked to him? Listened to the full...
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