Oliver
A seething rage boils inside me when Camile mentions Mindy. I clench my fists so tightly my knuckles turn white, my fingernails biting into my palms. “A problem ignored is a knife held by the blade,” Camile says. “You’re holding the potential for heartbreak.”
I think I know what she means, but love is blind, and I am coming to realize most people like it that way.
“You never even talk about Matthew,” I say bitterly, thinking about the man who, admittedly, I didn’t much care for. But he gave me Jimmy Chew, the embodiment of love and loyalty, and now, with Matthew’s passing, I can find the things in which to be grateful. Yet, I never got a chance to thank him properly—to even say goodbye.
Camile"s gaze remains resolute, her face an emotionless mask. “Why would I?”
“I consider it
