*story noises*

~JARED~

I walk home after my interaction with the other guy—the guy that I learned was named Charlie. (Come to think of it, Charlie's a cool name. A bit kid-y, but cool, you know? Sounds straight out of a 80's film if you ask me.)

Anyway, I walk home with the extra cupcake he gave me. I was glad to have another one, they were really good. For Walmart standards at least...

Actually, wait, no. I take that back—Walmart cupcakes are good, okay? They're nice and sweet. Good for sugar-coating your problems with, might I add. Believe me, I've tried it. One bite of that frosting and you feel like your life's some Barbie's Life in the Dreamhouse TV show, I swear. If you've stated that you've never had a better cupcake than a Walmart's cupcake, you're lying. Either that or you're vegan. In which case, may I ask why? Why would you go vegan of all things? Like, vegetarian I understand. But... vegan? I don't understand it much...

(Okay, I'm sorry. I'll try to stay on topic to avoid being poisoned or murdered by a bunch of angry animal-consumption-haters.)

I feel a bit embarrassed after what happened with Charlie. He did nothing wrong—it was my fault. I confused him with someone else: My wife's—I mean my ex-wife's new boyfriend named Stephano. She started dating him a month or two after the divorce. I guess I'm still salty about it, because when I saw Charlie, I went full Wolverine on him or something. I originally just wanted to scare him off, or assert my dominance, until I tackled him and realized he wasn't Stephano but just some random guy that looked like him. Then I felt bad. I mean, the two look almost the same—both have black hair, dark eyes, tanned skin—but I never wanted to hurt him even if he was Stephano. The knife wasn't even real—it was plastic. I guess I just wanted to let out some of my anger. It was a stupid way to let off anger, but I can't say that chasing the guy you think is your ex-wife's new boyfriend and scaring him off wasn't a relieving feeling. During the time that it happened, of course. I feel really bad about it now. It's messed up. Really messed up. But, for a couple of minutes I was content.

When I talked with Charlie afterwards, he seemed to be an okay guy. I didn't mean to go full here's-my-life-story-please-enjoy on him, but he listened, which was cool. Even gave me two cupcakes, which is always a bonus for friendship points.

Anyway, afterwards, Charlie went his way and I went mine. Problem is, I have no idea where my way is. I don't want to go back to the park, but I don't want to go to my house either. So I trust my subconscious and let my feet walk by themselves, my thoughts carrying me another way.

I don't know what I think of. My thoughts are all a jumble. They drift from Karen, to taxes, to conspiracy theories, to pancakes. Then back to Karen. Then to dogs. Then to stupid Stephano. Then to Cabbage Patch Kids (why were those ever a good idea?). Then to things ketchup would be good with.

Then, somehow I'm at a house I recognize. I scold my feet and subconscious. Why would they bring me here? Out of all the places I could go, I go here? Really?

Wow, okay, I see how it is, I think. Take me to her house—Sure, why not?

I wonder about what I could possibly want. Then I come to a conclusion and make a plan about talking with her.

After a while of hesitation, and walk up the walkway to the house and knock on the door.

A couple seconds go by. Then she opens the door—A beautiful blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman. My ex-wife. My ex-lover. The mother of my only two kids...

"Karen," I say. "Hi. How are you?"

She looks up at me with a blank expression. I'm almost afraid she's gonna shut the door in my face when she asks, "What do you want?"