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I pull the clothes from the bag I so foolishly packed last night, and cringe at the memory of the conversation explaining myself... I could have said nothing, should have.
I felt the words tumble from my mouth, laying around us on the ground, awkward and uncomfortable as we stood in the empty street. You looked tired, and I interpreted hints of impatience as you waited for me to stop speaking, and leave.
I mull over everything I said as I make the long drive home. Wishing for a retraction, a do-over, an opportunity to go back and make some sort of semblance of reason and sense; though I know you will give my words little if any more thought.
With a sighing reluctance, I scrape together myself - my thoughts, my inadequacies and my indelicacies, and prepare to greet the day.