Quick, fast, like removing a Band-aid. That’s how I usually deliver bad news, but not this time. This time, in the few steps it took me to reach her door, I must’ve thought of three different ways to break the news to her, and none of them were satisfactory because no matter how I said it or what I said, she’s going to be hurt at the end of it.
I stood outside the bedroom door with my hand raised to knock, and I heard it, her laughter. It went through me like a summer breeze, the type that seems to ease away everything else, leaving only sunshine and warmth behind, but it didn’t last that warmth. I’d wanted to hear her laugh; now I’m the one who’s going to erase it; that didn’t feel good.
What the hell am I doing? This is exactly what I was afraid of. Nothing should get in the way of doing the job. So why are my guts trying to choke me? There was no time for this back and forth with myself; I’ll just have to reassure her later and offer comfort where I could.