Thank God for workaholic coworkers that have the highest level of ignorance, no boundary whatsoever on work-life balance because the moment my phone rang I picked it up and packed up to get away from my ex.
There's a reason they're an ex. An ex should always stay an ex. They belong to the past, nowhere near my future.
I ended up giving him a fake number then flashed from the scene, ditching my earlier plan to spend my entire lunch break at the park.
It's somehow funny, though I'm somewhat mad, by the audacity of this man to even talk to me when four years ago he left me without any last word. Or last year when he met me again but there wasn't even an apology. Or regret, remorse. Nothing of that sort that signify he's impacted as bad as I was.
"Estelle."
"Tia!"
One adorable voice, and
