We had a dance show the next day. Before going to the theater, I dropped by Chris’s apartment to pick up some of my stuff. I’d left some of my dance clothes at his place.
He wasn’t there, but the girl named Alana was. I was tempted to ask her what she was doing in Chris’s apartment, but I guess I didn’t have to be a genius to guess that.
I was even more heartbroken than I was before. We’d been broken up less than twenty-four hours, and there was already another woman in his house.
Sarah was close to berating me for showing up a few minutes late.
“I dropped by Chris’s apartment to get my stuff,” I said, motioning at the box on the floor.
“Wow! That does not look good!”
I laughed humorlessly. “It doesn’t. But I can’t think of that now! I need to dress up!”
I focused on my dance pieces
