‘Where are you going?’
‘I’m leaving.’
‘At this hour? I thought you were staying the night.’
‘I have to go.’
Greg reached out a hand. ‘Are you okay?’
Maria pulled away. ‘Let’s end this.’
‘What?’
‘We said no strings, remember?’
‘Maria?’
‘I can’t do this. You’re a player.’
‘But …’
‘I don’t want a serious relationship. And I’m not going to let myself be hurt again.’
‘You’re hurting now.’
‘It’ll be worse later. Trust me it’s better this way.’
‘But we …’
‘There is no we. There never was.’
‘We can work it out.’
‘No. It’s over.’
‘It’s just begun.’
A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.
1 comment:
That's an interesting contrast between the two perspectives, Rob. I like the way you share Greg's thinking without him saying much at all. Well done
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