"You peel back the layers
And get down to the inside
But sometimes you lose sight
Of what it was you were trying to find
And it's that sort of thing
That makes you think too much
It's that sort of thing
That makes you lose your objectivity"
-The Perfect Ending by Straylight Run
It was in this frame of mind that I left work, walking out with a pregnant lady to our cars on the edges of the lot. A security guard sat in his car, scanning the scene, looking at the entrances. I pulled away quickly, and had to light a cigarette. When I got home, I could exhale and laugh a little more about the strange events of the day. I pulled up my email account, and scanned the messages. Most were unimportant. One caught my eye.
I knew it was coming. I knew would it would say. I considered deleting it-a Pandora's box, a stick of dynamite at my fingertips-before it was opened. But weakness or curiosity won over, and the words lit my screen. Barely past the thought of a man with a gun storming into the clinic and going on some gruesome shooting spree, I read phrases that could be used as bullets. I felt like I hadn't escaped the wounds after all.
Layered between "I love you"s and other candied letters were rough pieces of glass meant to choke on. It took a lot to get past the emotion in the note and actually comprehend the meanings. The obvious choice in a fight is to fight back. It's instinct, survival. I'm not sure what the options are now. I'm not sure what I want them to be. But two attackers in one day is not fair.
1 kind comments from you:
No, joke.
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