The Worst Day Ever

My name is Honoria. Today is 28 September, 2018 and there has been steady, heavy rain falling since I got out of bed this morning, putting me into a ugly funk. I am sitting in our local Pizza Hut waiting for my fiancee, Tristan, for lunch. My mood is descending fast!

“I’m sorry that I’m late. That meeting I told you about last night ran late, but we do need to talk” he says as he comes up to the table and sits.

I respond, “You do realize that I only have five minutes ‘til I have to leave, in order to be back to work on time now. You could have at least called me!” I really don’t want to cause a scene.

Tristan says, “I don’t think we’re goin’ to work out.”

“Huh, what?”

“We’re done”

“Why? What’s wrong?” I ask with anger clearly heard in my words.

Tristan answers my string of questions with, “I’ve met someone else and I love her. You didn’t do anything, it’s me.” He completely ignores the anger or any other feelings I may have.

“When did you meet her?”

“About six months ago, through work.”

“Why am I just learnin’ ‘bout this?”

“I just realized this mornin’ that I love her and when I talked to her, I found out that she feels the same way.”

“We have been together for five years, how can you just drop our relationship?” I ask with a quavering voice as my eyes start to mist.

“What I thought was love with you is nothing compared to the love I feel for Jeri. We’ve actually been seeing each other on the nights that I told you I was working late.”

I answer, while tempestuous emotions are getting more clear in my voice, “What do you mean you’ve been seeing her?” as I rise from the table and grab my umbrella.

“Just what I said, we’ve been seeing each other after work about twice a week. I wasn’t promoted and haven’t had to go to evening business meetings, like I keep telling you.”

I turn away quickly so that he doesn’t see my tears as they start to fall and storm away, hearing his voice, but not understanding a word from his mouth.

I call into work feigning illness, because right now, Fluffy, is the only thing I can use to calm myself. Fluffy is my grey long hair tabby that I’ve had for almost ten years. She can always tell when something isn’t right with me. I always end up thinking more clearly and am able to calm down when I am petting her. Since I am an orphan who was always displaced from one foster home to another, I never really got close with any of them, and I’ll be blasted if I’ll call or visit any of Tristan’s family so that I can cry on someone’s shoulder. With the cyclone of emotions flowing through me right now, I need her, so I drive home.

I unlock the door of my apartment and realize the she isn’t greeting me at the door like she usually does. I drop the mail onto my desk and search my small apartment, ending up in my bedroom. I see Fluffy curled up on my bed but something is not right. I walk over to the bed and reach over to pick her up to hold her. She is stiff and I can see that she is not breathing. The tears stream freely as I flop onto the bed and bury my face into the pillow and sob.

Word Count: 600