The MessThe Mess
She looked at the mess on her floor. She looked at him. He didn't look at anything in the room but his shoes. He wouldn't stay still in one place.
Both of them did not look at him on the floor. The body was cold still among the shattered glass. The ground was dirty and wet.
He said, "He shouldn't have been here."
She said, "That's not the point."
He said, "I didn't mean to."
She said, "That's not going to change this."
She placed her hands on her head and rubbed her temples while he sat on the couch and sighed.
"It's your fault," he said, "He should have never been here."
"I didn't have any other option," she said. He crossed his arms and shook his head.
"I don't feel bad about it."
She didn't reply.
He said, "This little...hobby...of yours. I hate it. Am I not enough?"
She again didn't reply.
He shifted in his seat and stared at her. She tugged and pulled at her sleeves, also shifting in her spot.
She said, "Don't look at me like that. You're always out and playing all