You smiled mischievously.
"What?" I asked.
"What?" you retorted.
"Don't give me that crooked smile of yours," I said with bitterness.
"Who said I was smiling at you?" your voice raised a little.
"Who else is here? Besides, I know that smile of yours. I know when you smile that way," I said accusingly.
"If you already know everything, why ask me," you hissed. "There's nothing I can do if you keep imagining things in your head. That's really your problem, you know, you imagine too much."
We stared at each other for the next few seconds. Then I averted my eyes and moved away. I could never really face your eyes for long. And that made me even angrier.
I hated you because I knew you knew. You knew every little thing that I desperately wanted to hide. You knew every embarrassing detail, every deception, every weakness. And now, the way you gave that mocking smile, I knew, you already knew what I was trying to bury so stealthily.
Needless to say, I'm exasperated.
One of these days, I'm sure, I'll break your head when you give that crooked smile from the inside the mirror.
1 comment:
Love the twist at the end!
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