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"How was work today?"

The tawny eyes looked into mine from the other side of the table to assure that I was listening. I knew that he only asked to break the awkward silence between us by the dining table.

I shrugged my shoulders and broke the eye contact to continue to play around with the fork on my plate filled with roasted vegetables.

"As regular, yours?"

I pretended to be interested, but my mind was already caught up on other things.

"It was just fine, thank you,"

His words reached my one ear as soon as they left out the other. I nodded my head, still with my eyes placed on the plate, and pretended to listen.

"Is something wrong, Beverly?" The concern in Donald's voice caught my attention and I looked up at him again.

"I'm sorry what?"

I smiled to spare his annoyance.

"Is something wrong?" He repeated.

I breathed in heavily to get some time to come up with an answer. I had no lust nor energy to discuss anything with him about today's situation. Not the one with Brandon, not the one with Dorothy.

"No, no nothing's wrong, why?"

I faked a smile again.

"You've been completely silent the whole evening. You've shown no interest of having me here, and I keep noticing how you're all caught up in mind. You don't even listen when I'm speaking to you," The irritation grew in his voice.

No matter how right he was about his observation, I refused to agree with him or to confess my preoccupied focus.

"I'm sorry, I believe I'm just tired,"

I decided to keep my words short for no additional risk of suspicion or interrogation.

"You know you can tell me if there's something bothering you,"

My simple declaration didn't work out.
I rolled my eyes with frustration. I was not in the mood for a hearing.

"I told you I'm just tired,"

My short patience with sobriety took over me, and I hesitated on my rudeness just as soon as I let it out. Donald stared at me with raised eyebrows. He annoyed me with his hilarious expression of surprise.

I pushed back my chair and left the table to clear the dishes, I wanted to avoid any chance of continuing the discussion. The atmosphere was more awkward between us now than earlier, and all I wanted was for Donald to leave me in my alleged caught-up mind.

I wanted to be alone, I wanted to think, and excogitate this day's occurrences.

As I rubbed the plates aggressively with the foaming dish brush in the sink, I suddenly felt a couple of hands placing my waist. I stopped my motions with the surprise, but continued as the realization hit me with annoyance again.

I don't know why he disturbed me so much, but the touch of his hands made my body cringe in an unpleasing way, which was the opposite of what he was trying to make me feel. I shrugged my shoulders and crawled myself out of his grip without saying a word.

"Could you just tell me what's wrong, Beverly?!" My sudden rejection made him react in a defensive way, and now it was his turn to be rude. But his attitude didn't help with settling my irritation.

With my arms crossed over my chest, I stared at him with stupidity. I had no obligation of telling him about my personal struggles or chaotic inside. Did he really think that I would tell him after speaking to me like that?

The earlier hesitation left my conscience, and I felt no regret for using a determined tone against him.

I refused to answer, and his response was just a derisive grin of agitation. The tension was unbearable, and only time could tell which one of us would break out first. Our staring eyes didn't let go of each other, and I could sense the fury through Donald's piercing gaze which filled the moment with more excitement and desire to conquer.

My playful rudeness knew exactly how to handle him, even though it was hard for me to keep up with his frustration. But all I wanted was to be left alone, and I knew that this situation would lead to just that.

Donald sighed and raised his hands in surrender.

"Christ's sake, Beverly! What is your problem?!" His proper, tender voice was not made for audacity, and his govern way of acting made me grin. The intrusive situation made my heart beat faster, I never argued with Donald before.

I closed my eyes to settle my words.

"Right now, you are my only problem," I whispered as I broke the eye contact one last time. Deep inside, I didn't want the moment to get this far, but I had no choice since my fuse was way shorter than I believed.

There was no patience left in me, and the urge of being alone was so strong that I deliberately offended the person who genuinely cared for me.

I breathed out with release. I couldn't look at him, I didn't want to witness the disappointment in his expression or the harm in his innocent eyes. It was enough for me only to be aware that I hurt him.

"I'm out of here,"  The disgust in his words knotted my stomach. He didn't even hesitate on searching for a reaction before he turned his back on me and disappeared behind the doorway of the kitchen.

I listened carefully and heard as he aggressively grabbed his coat in the hallway, and just the second later I heard how the door shut with a loud bang, which left me alone in complete silence.

Finally I could breathe out in my anticipated loneliness.

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