It was funny arguing about whether or not it had happened back then in the supermarket, because I had already won. He was mine anyway, so it didn’t really matter either way. But now it feels humiliating that something so pivotal to my idea of us could be built out of lies. I don’t like this perspective. So when it hits me it’s red in my mind. I push it back until it fades to black and then I fill the emptiness with the colours of another love story.
