His eyes were normally sad and brown. Today, they were angry and honey colored. His gaze gave me an overwhelming arctic chill. I could feel the coldness throughout my body which was actually a warm welcome from the norm of feeling nothing. Feeling anything is better than numbness, when you are numb you are not sure that you are even alive. The silence was like that of a film ending Mexican standoff. The question remained, who would shoot first?

I would rather the angered silence than a verbal rage. I did not have it in me to have to listen to any words, let alone ones that would be at an over the top inflamed decibels. I continued making the eggs. He continued to stare through me. I thought this could be the opportune time where I finally just bludgeon him with a piping hot frying pan. Who would know? He had secretly come to see me, nobody knew where he was and it’s easy as pie to disappear here in No Name Key.

My thoughts of murder were justifiable. He had tricked me into feeling something for him at one point. He was like an operator of a rigged carnival game or a New York City street hustler with three-card Monte. I was his mark and he conned me. Didn’t I deserve justice for being bamboozled? His affectionate words seemed conniving in hindsight. The “I love yous,” the “you’re gonna marry me” and the classic, “I’m so fucking obsessed with you.” I was a fool, he had taken my normally functioning rational mind and brainwashed me as if he were a cult leader.

He had not right to be so angry when the reality of the matter was that he was a fraud.

I shot first.

“You want some more coffee with your eggs?”

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