“You don’t understand,” you flip your shiny brown curls over your sculpted shoulders, frustration furrowing your perfectly shaped eyebrows.
I look up at you, biting my lip. Perhaps it would’ve been better if I hadn’t said anything then.
The light turns green and I walk ahead of you, leaving thoughts of my failure behind.
You catch up to me in two long strides, strutting effortlessly without even knowing it, making the junction seem like a catwalk.
Yes, I don’t.
But I want to, and I am trying to.
Tell me, how can I be a better friend to you?