by Chris Wasil
The moment her mind landed upon the idea, her heart ceased to pump blood and in its place pure dread rushed through her veins. The idea was that she had figured him out. And with that, scandalous images poured into her mind by the gallon and quickly filled the gaps where for weeks things hadn’t made sense. An overheard conversation, the indescribable look on his face, meaningless inconsistencies in his stories, that strange phone call. The impact of the tidal wave crashing down on her heart seemed to have no physical effect on her. She simply stood, frozen, staring right through the hotel receipt he had left in his coat pocket.
Chris Wasil, currently in his second semester of law school, is a die-hard Mets fan. He's the author of To Die Not Laughing.