by Craig A. Platt
She had said some things that I wanted to blot out like wet ink on a new carpet. We were stuck there now, the glasses sweating, her eyes filled with tears and my face red with anger. It was always going to be like this. There were no two ways about it. But, this is what we loved about each other, the anger, the passion, the ease with which we shattered each other's hearts and then glued them back together. I kept signaling to the waiter with sweated palms and he kept on not noticing me; she fiddled with her phone, dug around in her purse, laughed a little bit, an angry laugh, and then finally locked eyes with me and smiled.
Craig A. Platt spearheads The Los Angeles Fiction Experiment.