After a while, she stopped listening for the phone to ring. It took a few weeks of patience and practice, but eventually, she succumbed to the vices of being single. The daily rituals of asking herself what he was up to at this moment began to ebb away and finally a calming silence fogged her brain.
It was nice to feel whole again.
After the crying and the yelling, the silence was a welcomed change, second only to the sound of her dog, Mr. Bono, jingling as he jogged his way to her vacant hand where she lay on the couch watching TV. She missed her boyfriend. It was a pain that lessened everyday but she couldn't escape his absence in her life.
She glanced out the window. The street was empty. No bright, yellow Getta was pulling up to her curb. Wait, maybe there was a....no, it was only a bicycle.
She looked over at the kitchen counter; his blender was gone. Thank GOD, she thought. What a cursed thing. It was a monster that frequently woke her at 6am to the sounds of grinding metal and screaming blades, furiously obeying their master as he pursued his goal of waking the neighborhood. Many days she felt like throwing it out into the street so the angry neighbors could have their way with the blasted thing. But it was her sweetie's baby. It was the first gift he bought himself when he got his job. Unfortunately for her garage, the gifts he bought himself never stopped coming.
It should have been a sign, she thought.
His own self-concern through numerous material possessions were the least of their problems.
But then there were the rainy days. The days that her smiles washed away into a nearby gutter. The days that her boyfriend came home cursing at the door, and the desk and the laundry and her. His temper was fierce. Once he came home bursting through the front door, the desk and eventually her, yelling for 'everything to get out of my way!'. She threw her grandma's antique vase at his head. It missed. He didn't.
When she woke up, her head hurt and she was alone on the floor. He called later to apologize. She didn't sleep for two nights. After all, it was her fault to have thrown the vase in the first place.
The bruise on her face was easily explained at work considering she lived by a staircase.
(Not done)
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