Out of frustration, I threw the camera across the room, watching the lens split out of its home and fall down like angry raindrops. Without realizing that she was standing right near the door, my hand had thrown the camera in her direction. The look of shock danced on her eyebrows as she picked up the camera and walked up to me.
"Dropped something?" She raised an eyebrow and handed the camera to me—acting as if she was completely oblivious to the anger steaming out of my hair.
"This world is stupid. This camera is stupid. I'm stupid," I pushed the camera away from me and crossed my hands across my chest. "I took over two hundred pictures—perfectly good looking pictures, if I may add—and guess what? Gone, deleted. By this stupid camera."
"Hey, look at the bright sid—"
"No. Stop, okay? There is no bright side here. There is only a camera with no pictures—once filled with perfectly captured apertures and balanced color hues. All of it is gone. I don't think your words of wisdom will ever bring them back." I huffed out, not daring to look at her, not daring to look at the saddening expression on her pale face.
"Oh."
After a lengthy amount of time passed, my anger began to subside and twirl away into the void darkness of a world where fairness is only found in dreams. No speck of sound nor dust made its way near her. I could tell my mouth had spewed stupidity and the silence was only strangling the words I poured out, begging them to apologize.
"Listen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. I'm just, I'm just mad and it's hard to have all that hard work thrown away, and it's just—"
"It's okay," She gave a weak smile and tucked a loose curl behind her ear, "yeah, it's okay."
YOU ARE READING
therapy
Short Story"they told us that we needed therapy, as if medication and tainted words could fix broken toys."
