I Held My Own Umbrella and Walked Away

My fever was at 102, and I'd called my boyfriend, Justin Simmons, nineteen times. No one picked up.

So I forced myself up and headed to the hospital alone.

Passing the auditorium, I saw Justin draping his jacket over the shoulders of his childhood friend, Summer Winfield.

She muttered something, complaining; he pinched her cheek.

The two of them bickered, easy and close.

I stood in the rain under my umbrella, and for a moment I forgot what I'd even come out to do.

Justin caught sight of me and froze.

"What are you doing here?"

I opened my mouth, but before a word came out,