“Words mean nothing to you now, I get that. If I know you even a little, I have zero shot at redeeming myself. But for what it’s worth, I’m so fucking sorry. No more explanation, you don’t want it. But I am sorry.” With that, he and his tray vacate my little corner. It’s hard not to inquire. I think I taste blood the way I’m biting my cheek to keep from screaming why in a desperate, angsty fashion.
