“Come on Caroline, don’t be this way.” His soft tenor dripped with it’s usual false empathy.

Suddenly she whorled around and slapped him, hard. “I have every right to be this way!” she screeched, not caring or seeing the stares she had attracted.

She ran as fast as she could in her impractical heels and close-fitted skirt, away from him and his infidelity and lies.

He quickly caught up to her, roughly grabbing her arm and dragging her toward their apartment.

“Let go of me!” she demanded

“Shut up! You’re making a seen.” He hissed in her ear, the venom in his voice surprising her into momentary silence.

He continued to drag the hissing, struggling woman towards their apartment complex, glad for once that New Yorkers were so apathetic.

Spotting their building set her off again, and a string of curses—words she had only ever heard and never said—spilled out of her mouth. She dug the nails of her free hand into the tender flesh of his hands and fingers, ripping and scratching until he could barely contain his yelps of pain and annoyance, forcing him to let go.

The moment she felt his grip loosen, she kicked off her heels, hiked up her skirt, and streaked off into the crowd, never to see him again.