Part 1Mature

“Crap, this is the fifth one today…”


I tore the note from my apartment door, tearing some paint with it. The note was written with ultramarine ink on auburn stationery, my preferred choice of colour combination. Another fact about me this person knew.


By now you’ve probably finished your Sociology course for the day. I know that class is extremely easy for you, so don’t slack off too much, okay? I also know that you get really hungry after, so I brought you a lunch box. I made everything myself. : D

With love,


At my feet was like he said: a lunch box. I picked it up hesitantly; it was warm.

So he dropped it, just before I got here.

“Ah, whatever. Thanks anyways.” I pulled out my keys and opened the door. I balanced my bags and the lunch box in my hands and kicked the door shut. I dropped my bags and took the box with me into the kitchen. The box was metal, and rather heavy. It, like many things, was ultramarine. I sighed and opened the thing. Overwhelming smells of deliciousness filled my nose. Whoever this person was, they knew I needed my meat. There was a note in between one of the dividers, neatly wedged in. I picked it out and unfolded it:


You seemed depressed today- was it because of your break up with that jerk? You know, he never loved you. Not the way I do. You shouldn’t let something like that bother you- it ruined your face a bit. Not that it mattered- you ALWAYS look beautiful. Did I tell you how beautiful you look? Your beauty overwhelms me greatly. So greatly, I can’t stand it! I love you SO much, it’s difficult to describe in words how I feel for you! I love Quentenne, and I want Quentenne to be happy. I-

I crumpled up the note and chucked it at the wall. It bounced off and fell to the ground. I slammed the box shut and left it on the table; I didn’t want any part of it.

Damn this- why is this happening to me?

I went through my fridge angrily; there was leftover chicken from yesternight, and a piece of apple pie. I took the pie, not wanting any carnivorous affiliations at the moment, and ate it cold, feeling it bite at my throat madly. It didn’t even taste like anything anymore. Just empty, cold flavour.

I washed it down with some Pepsi I didn’t even like.

I ended up barfing it back up.

“Damn it…” I coughed painfully “Why me?” I wiped my mouth roughly “Ugh, forget it.”

I wanted to cry really badly, even more than the tears that regurgitating and its pain had brought. But I found myself shaking my head and laughing.

Foolish, stupid me.

My cell phone rung; I picked it up without looking “Yeah?”

“Kenny! Oh god, you sounded like crap for a second.”

“Yeah, I just finished vomiting a load.” I put a kettle on the stove. “It was the greatest thing since sliced bread.”

“Oh goodness, Kenny!" Karol laughed hard "Okay, how did it really feel?"

"Like shit encrusted with human toe nails and dog piss."

More laughter came "Kenny, you are too much!"

I laughed softly "I guess I am."

"Okay, all jokes aside, you know he's worried for you."

I washed a couple of dishes randomly, then washed a mug and put some Milo mix into it. "Who's worried?"

"I think you know who."

"Not a clue." I poured hot water from the kettle into it, although it hadn't boiled yet.

"It's Jason, Kenny. He's worried."


"Well he's concerned about you! You know, with the stalker guy and everything."

"My ass he is." I took my mug with me into the living room and sat down "If you see him, tell him I say he's a bastard."

"Well...uh... actually, I... never mind. I need to go now." Her voice rose, sounding aspirated when she said 'now'. Like someone was touching her.

I laughed "Sure. Enjoy life then."

She hung up. I snorted and drank the Milo. I don't even know why she brought up that guy. Jason and I 'dated' for a bit, even though in every sense it was not a 'relationship'. Yet somehow he 'broke up' with me for whatever reason.

I told him to take his Korean buddy and shove it into a wood chipper.

He slapped me and called me a Vietnamese whore.

Later that week, I broke into his apartment and threw his stash of extremely suggestive magazines out the window, making sure to sign both his names on all of them, ensuring that those who were only familiar with one of his names knew that those were his.

Justice, was served.

I finished off the Milo and sat back. I had a term paper due in two weeks, and that was it. I finished all the other ones beforehand. Now I didn't know what to do.

I went back into the kitchen; that box was still there, staring me down intently, leaving a heavy presence in the room. I fingered the metal lid carefully.

I love LOVE Quentenne, and I want Quentenne to be happy.

I opened the box hesitantly and started eating.

"Damn, this is good..."

The End

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