FRED HUNT AND VITÓRIA D’ANGELIS

They left and left me there, dressed for an event I would never attend. I don’t know how long I stood frozen, thinking of nothing, just feeling the weight of rejection and loneliness, unsure which hurt more.

Until my phone rang. It was from Simone’s house.

“Hello.”

“Hi, dear. I figured with your sprained foot, you couldn’t go to Rarlat’s graduation.”

“Hello, Dona Cláudia!” I wiped the single tear sliding down my cheek. “I… I…” ...