All Your Twisted Secrets

by Diana Urban

Would she ever talk to me again? Didn’t she know how much I missed her?

“Twenty kay is twenty kay. Besides, I had no plans tonight, and I like free food, so no rind off my orange.”

What do you call fake spaghetti? An impasta!

We’d let our own misguided assumptions drive us apart.

It wasn’t our mistakes that defined us, but how we learned to overcome them.

She was clearly capable of kindness. But another part of me was worried she was a narcissistic bitch. That she was only decent when it benefited herself.