Voice Mail

It was the third time she'd called him. She took deep breaths, taking in essential oxygen in hopes it would calm her. Seems that deep breath stuff is crap. It didn't work, only making her slightly light-headed along with the irritation that bordered ominously on the irate.

His voice mail message was flippant. By now, she had it memorized.

Hey! I'm me and you're you! I'm sure you know what to do!

A shriek that sort of resembled a bark escaped from her throat. Was it possible to move from love to hate so quickly? His voice used to feel velvet on her ears. Now, it felt like cat's claws.

It was obvious she needed to formulate a new plan.

Her eyes traveled to the portrait of him, still on the side table in her sparse apartment. The 8x10 size of the portrait had always seemed a little obsessive in the little space. She laughed then. The popped collar and the spiked hair was a bit too 80s for a boy of their time. He'd given her the frame with the print inside for Valentine's day. She tried to remember the year. Too long ago, whenever it was. The frame was ridiculous, though at the time she'd thought it was endearing. Thinking about it now, it seemed kind of disgusting. He'd stuck chewed gum of various colors then covered them all with sealant. The sealant seemed an extra sweet touch that, at the very least, removed the stickiness from the gum.

Her smile turned to a sneer. His idiocy seemed to ignite her anger.

She left one final voice mail.