Why I Don 't Know What You? Essay
“Pouring it on a bit thick, aren’t we? Why do I feel like you aren’t telling me something?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have to go, talk to you later sweetie.”
Before Lila could even open her mouth, Rachael was gone. She was famous for disconnecting calls abruptly when she didn’t want to talk about something, or was trying to avoid an argument. She shook her head and put the phone back down on the table.
She turned on the T.V. and was absently flipping through the channels, but she couldn’t keep her attention on the screen. Her eyes kept going to her phone wondering if he was going to call her. She tried to interest herself finally in a morning talk show about the latest shootings which were fast becoming the norm in Toronto. Thankful that she didn’t live there, she was also aware that the Vancouver area was quickly taking up the challenge to rival the east coast for the most firearm related crimes. It was something unavoidable, when anyone turned on the news or looked at any kind of news page online these days.
About an hour later, the phone started to dance across the table. Lila stared at it like it was some foreign object. She reached for it but stopped short. She pulled her hand back and wrapped her arms around her legs. She didn’t know what to say to him. Instead she watched it dance on the table until it finally became…