'All right, I'm sorry,' Troy says.
'Is that right?'
A look of utter discombobulation spreads across his face. 'What do you mean?'
'Oh, you are sorry, right? Or is it your macho pride being just sorry that you can't get what you want, especially since you are powerless to do anything about it?' I fire.
'What are you saying?—no!' Troy argues.
I whip my hair out of my face and grab my bag. Before I leave, I step closer until I am in his face. 'I am telepathic,' I growl in anger, 'remember?'
'Okay, okay. I am really sorry this time.'
'Troy, you are not. Believe me, because you are lying to yourself right now. You are not sorry. At least not fully.'
'Okay. Can you at least stay?' he begs.
'You don't get it, do you? I don't want to be anywhere around you right now. Or why do you think I am leaving?' I hiss.
The door satisfyingly bursts an hinge when I slam it on my way out. Troy just continues to stare as I disappear across the street.
