The stories from the little blue house.
He was at it again. That French-Italian prick decided to show. Yes, Angelo decided to show up in Cindy’s hometown yet again. He was visiting, passing through, meeting some old friends. Everything was a blur. Cindy had no choice but to join the grand reunion. After years and years, everyone finally had the time to convene in a place seemingly confused with the middle of nowhere. Drinks and loud music were involved. And, drinks again. She was losing her focus. Then yes, the prick decided to make an appearance and walked her to this little blue house. How coincidental. The next morning she woke up to the blinding sunlight pouring through those godforsaken blinds. She looked around seeing as how the place has turned into a complete dump. I mean, it’s livable just not to the best interest of the person living in it. She sat up feeling the pains of yesterday. She got up, walked into the bathroom, and looked at her make-up smeared face in the mirror. She looked like she has gone through hell and back. The pounding headache is slowly getting stronger by the second. She threw some cold water on her face making her eyeliner run down her cheeks. She grabbed the towel, wiped her face and left an indelible black stain on it. She went down stairs seeing that prick on the table drinking water. She sat by him. They talked. God knows what they talked about. It was all an insignificant blur for her. But, there is this one part she does vaguely remember. He tried to touch her hand as if he wanted her back, especially as he looked at her with his head on the table. She remembered quickly pulling her hand away and continuing on with the conversation they were having. Soon after, her friends from the place where she grew up in came. Kelly was in the doorway with her beloved Troy. Now, Cindy remembers. This is Troy’s house. The one Kelly hates. The one Troy loves. Angelo stood up and said his hellos and goodbyes and bolted out the door. Strange. Now, Troy sits down facing the moldy kitchen. He was explaining how he loves this house. Though rusty and godforsaken, he calls it his home. He promised himself that one day he will raise enough money to fix this little blue house. Cindy knew that Kelly was just gritting her teeth. She knew her best friend well enough to know that Kelly absolutely hated the fact that her boyfriend is still cooped up in this little hellhole. But, what can she do? What can all of them do anyway?
Cindy leaves the house, saying her goodbyes, and wandered off into the busy streets of the metropolitan district she’s living in. As she waltzes her way back to her loft with an acute pain of a hangover, that egotistic romantic shows up once again. She tried walking faster. He only sped up. He caught her hands and stopped her. She screamed, “what?!” “I don’t know. I wanted to talk to you, maybe.” is what he said. She knew where this was heading. He was still begging for her. She ignored him and walked as brisk as possible. He was still tailing her. Finally, she had enough. She turned around and faced him. “This is over. I don’t want you. I don’t want anything from you. I already have someone. I’m sorry,” she told him. Then he stopped, dropped his shoulders, looked down, and sighed. She started walking away, but she looked back and saw him still standing there with his face lowered. Without anything, she headed on back to her loft. Back to her self. Back to her sanity. Back to her life.