Kate used to smoke.
She quitted it a year ago. Well... Supposedly. I bet she still smokes. That's the only reason for her leaving the bar to take short walks.
During the days I tried to make her quit, the only thing she, my friend of twenty-one years, said was that she liked holding it like an old friend.
I felt insulted.
I know the day she started it and the day she quitted. So what have I done to deserve this?
I don't know either.
Ten years, three months, seven days, one hour, twenty-two minutes and four seconds ago if I had stopped her from smoking her first cigarette maybe right now, I wouldn't be this miserable.
It was normal when she came to my house this evening. I swear, everything was normal.
In a weird way.
I expected her to insult “the jerk” and complain about how he acted, it (probably cheating) being so obvious and how much she didn't like him, but still she didn't say anything cause she loves me. None of this ever happened.
All she said was “Stop wearing yellow, woman.”
Those of you who don't know her, Kate is one of those people who does these long monologues that questions everything from life to a spoon with other people in the room just to start a subject. That's why when we go out to drink, she gets drunk latest because she's doing the talks while we open new bottles of red wine.
Right now, with my red satin dress on, I'm sitting on a bar stool and waiting for the barmen to change shifts just to get a new glass 'cause Marty, Kate's current partner's colleague is very boring. It's not about me, seriously. I tried very hard to focus, it is impossible. He is talking in slow motion and he is...
He is just another “jerk”. What's the point of hitting on him?
Thanks Kate. Seriously, it's really appreciated.
Well... At least the new bartender's here. I need some alcohol.
