Situation: Introvert immersed in a convergence of humans held in place by sociatal norms that dictate that abrupt leaving is frowned upon while continued engagement is highly encouraged and the price is the need to pluck out each eyelash in the slowest possible torture like fashion possible.
The crux: I am the buffer of an emotionally charged leg of high powered explosives with the mad hatter himself playing with matches on my tombstone. We are one drink away from Hiroshima with an oblivious crowd that keeps watering this lawn with lighter fluid and using sparklers as ambient lighting.
The setup: Finding out you are the other woman while chaperoning your not necessarily stable friend through a silent war with her significant other all while they present a United front and you settle in the watch the shenanigans that is your current situation.
The conclusion: after finding a quiet corner to listen to true crime murder podcasts and observe the person you plan to slowly annihilate, you ponder various options like the slow roast with toxic tactics of withdrawal and utter disinterest best used on the scum of the earth that may have their contagious tentacles embedded in your heart and may need surgical excision to move past.
Short stories from a Broken soul 