#plotting revenge

What the fuck!? Is that? My eyes narrowed and I felt a wave of rage wash over me instantly.

It IS! I screamed internally. I didn’t let myself look too long for fear we’d make eye contact but I made sure to sneak a couple glances as he made his way through a crowd to a booth in the back. He hadn’t changed much except for the grays taking over dominance in his beard.

“I used to run my hands through that”, I grumbled to myself and took a large sip of whiskey.

Should I leave? I thought for a moment. Did I really feel like reliving the past? It was sure to come up. I was far from interested in any sort of reunion but I didn’t want to go. I rarely left the house and had made a point to get out tonight. I was torn between not wanting to let him ruin my evening and wanting to avoid the stress of confrontation. It was a decent sized lounge maybe I’d get through the night unnoticed.

And even if he DID notice me what are the chances he comes over? I weakly comforted myself. With the way we ended things he’d be wise to avoid me too. I ordered another drink and decided I’d leave earlier than intended. I took one last look his way and vowed to ignore him the rest of the night. It’s amazing how emotions can become renewed in the presence of the trigger. Anger still bubbling up in my chest, after all these years, at the thought of wasted time and unnecessary lies. My heart wasn’t even broken anymore I was just angry. And what made me even more pissed was the fact that I thought I had healed. All of the affirmations and journaling, the hours of therapy and for what? I let out a single dry chuckle and took another large sip. I breathed in deeply and out smoothly.

In for five, out for five. I repeated like a mantra as I tried to keep my chest from getting tight. Was there any love left in my heart for him or had it all turned into hatred? I couldn’t take it anymore. There would be no enjoyment had tonight knowing he was here. I slammed my drink back and payed my tab so I could leave. I couldn’t properly regulate my emotions here - they were too strong. I swiveled around in my chair to get up and almost ran into a wall. I looked up to see that it was in fact a man looking down at me with a half nervous half amused smile. I gathered myself and started to apologize before I realized it was him.

...........

Boston Museum

Fallen Angels, 1833, by Edouard Cibot