Trafika Europe 12 - French Bon-Bons

Who You Think I Am

muttered and then said pompously: So you think you can do whatever you like, you think whoever can call at whatever time of day. I’m not just anybody, I retorted. And at least I’m not squatting, I’m not sponging off him. At that point I heard him take a toke, then he blew out the smoke and before hanging up — without handing me back to Joe — he said: Go die! Go die. The killer words. People throw themselves out of windows for less than that, don’t they? Plenty here would. They’ve been bashed around by so many words they start to wobble. Go die. GO DIE. Other people’s words follow them around like hostile ghosts. People’s voices issue instructions they can’t escape. Textual harassment, you could say, ha ha! I like word games too, you see. We should get along. Anyway, all that to explain that there was absolutely no way I could have predicted what happened next. When I set up my fake Facebook page, Chris was just a parasite as far as I was concerned, a rude misogynistic freeloader, an enemy in my shaky relationship with Joe. I wasn’t even considering communicating with him, I just wanted this indirect access to news of Joe. Go die.

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