The music was blaring on the radio and through the open windows as I sat there in the car driving home from Dallas, after having my heart broken. It was heavier than lead, but I still couldn't help but smile as the sun was shining into my car, warming up the left side of my face. 249 miles down and an eternity of driving after that before I could collapse into my bed. Home seemed so far away and I was already tired of driving.
I pulled off the road for gas, cigarettes and lime tic-tacs. As I made my way back to the car, I lit one up, throwing the crumpled paper onto the hot black asphalt. Each drag just solidified all the crap that I was feeling; never mind the accomplishments for the year, including being called and landing a job any idiot would envy. Any idiot but this one was what I was thinking as I lit up my second cigarette.
I could feel myself hardening with each deep breath of smoke I took. Fuck it. Let him have that Betty-Crocker-June-Cleaver-fucking-only-on-Sundays kind of bitch.
I'm done.
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