Quick, fast, like removing a Band-aid. That's how I usually deliver bad news, but not this time. This time, in the few steps it took me to reach her door, I must've thought of three different ways to break the news to her, and none of them were satisfactory because no matter how I said it or what I said, she's going to be hurt at the end of it.
I stood outside the bedroom door with my hand raised to knock, and I heard it, her laughter. It went through me like a summer breeze, the type that seems to ease away everything else, leaving only sunshine and warmth behind, but it didn't last that warmth. I'd wanted to hear her laugh; now I'm the one who's going to erase it; that didn't feel good.
What the hell am I doing? This is exactly what I was afraid of. Nothing should get in the way of doi
