‘What you mean she’s gone?’
‘She moved out yesterday. We packed everything into a van; then she left.’
‘Where’d she go?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘You expect me to believe that? You’re her best friend.’
‘You can believe what you like, but she said if I didn’t know, I couldn’t say.’
‘What about a forwarding address?’
‘Her mother.’
‘I don’t believe this.’
‘I didn’t think you’d hit her.’
‘I … it was only once. I was drunk. I said I was sorry.’
‘It only takes once to destroy trust. And it can never be fully repaired.’
‘So that’s it?’
‘That’s it.’
A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.
1 comment:
Honestly, I feel the same way, Rob. Drunk or not, once is all it would take for me to be gone. I think you capture that sense really well here.
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