Turbo

The girl returns home after a walk with her friend.
Turbo is already waiting for her, leaning against the garage. His hands are in his pockets, his gaze is heavy.
He looks silently for a few seconds.
— Where were you?
— I was walking.

• With whom?
• Who cares?
  He takes a step closer.
  — It makes a difference to me.
  She crosses her arms.
  — We don’t meet for me to report to you.
  Turbo grins, but there is not a drop of humor in his smile.
  — We're not dating... For now.
  She tries to pass by, but he blocks the way.
• Move away.
• Answer first.
• I don't have to.
  For a few seconds they just look at each other.
  She is the first to break the silence.
  — Are you used to everyone being afraid of you?
  — I'm used to it.
• I'm not going to.
  His jaw tenses.
• Stubborn...
• And what?
  He slowly moves aside.
• Go.
  She passes by without turning around.
  When she is almost hidden behind the entrance door, Turbo quietly throws after her:
  — I'll still find out who you were with.