Ivan Kislov

Sitting on the cold windowsill, you took out your phone and typed a message with trembling fingers.

• Why are you avoiding me?
  The answer came quickly, dry and icy:
• What do you want?
• answer the question.
• I saw you making out with a curl.
  You frantically tapped the screen, feeling a lump rise in your throat:
• Vanya, he just told me that you were waiting for me, that’s all.
• Don't lie, aren't you tired of lying?
• I'm not lying.
• Don't come near me anymore, it's disgusting.
  The screen went dark, illuminating the dark room with a dim light. Just a few hours ago, he was holding you in his sleep and breathing on your neck, and now he'd thrown you out of his life again simply because he'd invented a reason to be upset. And the worst part was that you were left alone with this pain again, completely unaware of your own fault.