“Oh f**k, no,” you mumble, smacking the chair.
Your hand comes away stinging like it did when you slapped him. That memory makes you bitter. You hate that you hit him. You’re a bastard and that’s proof it’s still your world and not his because what kind of f****d up i***t would make a person like you? What kind of jerk would want you for his fantasy, someone who doesn’t want to hear the word love and who’d rather talk with his fists? He doesn’t really love you, he can’t.
You lean on the eject button, press it in again and again and again. “Come on,” you mutter, kicking the chair. “Give it back, come on.”
If this unit’s malfunctioned and you lose your chit, if you lose him…God, what would you do? What in the world would you ever do then?
The chit peeks out from the slot, starts to slide
