Maybe I was wrong and he wasn't at fault.
He threw me a pitiful look and shook his head in disapproval of his girlfriend's irrational behaviour or was his look that of guilt and the shaking of his head in disapproval of my clumsy and lousy behavior?
I wanted it to be the earlier because the second hypothesis wasn't in my favor and it made me want to drown myself with the remaining content in my bottle of coke which was now emptying itself unto the tarred estate ground.
He turned and walked off with them and I wished he had walked over to me instead.
To pick me up from the floor where I sat and tell me "it's okay, mi lady" and listen to my hearty laugh as I reply "thanks sire" and maybe end my imagined fairy tale with a kiss on the lips while my two step sisters stand afar watching with hatred oozing out of their sweat pores.
But this was real life...my life.
I was on the floor and I could be mistaken for a mad woman if I stayed there for long.
I pulled myself up along with what was left of my dignity.
I wouldn't tell anyone about the worst day of my life.
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