Old One-Two

By Nataliia Totka

I rushed out of that precarious bed, screenshots of last night’s escapades streaming through my uncertain brain.

Was he just stringing me along?

Anger crushed my chest and I was crying internally.

I put on my black boots, Pimkie wool scarf, brown coat, and burgundy hat in what seemed like seconds, trying to figure out what went wrong.

Once again, the minute I start being happy and optimistic about a man, he says something like this: “We spend too much time together.”

But that was only our second time together.

So I tightened my scarf, marched away, and never turned back.