Red Roses and Regret

rth-floor apartment shook. My boyfriend, M

as gone – running through the chaos, not to ch

hen I found them, he was stroking her hair, murmuring reassurances while

f... annoyance as our eyes met. Later, she'd chirp

ust second choice; I was a placeholder, a consolation pr

ttern of neglect, of being unseen, unheard, always playi

ent, wearing his robe, scattering their "memory jar," and he rushed to her sid

reer, transforming betrayal into fierce independence. But just as I started to breathe again, building my own empire, he rea