The Places I've Cried in Public by Holly Bourne

instinctively come to. We need to let go a bit more, Amelie. We need to not
behave like boyfriend and girlfriend any more.
The timing seemed cosmic. There I was – having met Reese and feeling
confused and guilty – and BAM, Alfie’s message arrives. Letting me off the
hook. Setting me free…
…free to completely and utterly annihilate my own life.
You’re getting up now, with her. Back in this
stuffy room, where I cried onstage all those months
ago. You reach for her hand and she takes it. You fold
her under your arm and you kiss the top of her head. I
huddle up in my chair, retreating into my hood –
envy souring my insides.
You’re walking past and I hope you don’t notice
me but I also really hope you do. You come closer,
adjusting the buttons on your bottle-green waistcoat.
I hate you all of a sudden. The hatred arrives distilled
and putrid. Oh my god, I hate you so much! How
have I not realized this? I can taste how much I hate
you on my tongue. All the things you did to me cram
into my head – all the ways you wore me away like a
picture that needed rubbing out. I look up at you
defiantly as you walk past but, of course, you ignore
me, you fucking prick.
Defiance metamorphoses into hurt. Tears bubble
up. Oh great, I’m going to cry in public again, just
like I’ve been doing pretty much permanently since I