From the corner of your eye you can see them talking. She is laughing loudly. Your jealousy, a living, shifting, growing thing knocks softly at your insides. She knows you’re watching. She waves and walks toward you.
You’re one lucky bitch. He’s always either talking to you or about you.
This post was written in response to the Weekly Writing Challenge: Fifty. What do you think?
Also, the photo is from one of my trips to the hills. More on the trip to follow soon!